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The 
Crimson   Sweater 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2011  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hil 


http://www.archive.org/details/crimsonsweaterObarb 


The  final  game  between  Ferry  Hill  and  Hammond. 


The 

Crimson  Sweater 


By 

Ralph  Henry  Barbour 

Author  of  "Tom,  Dick,  and  Harriet,"  "Harry's  Island," 
"The  Half-Back,"  etc. 

With    Illustrations 

By  C.  M.  Relyea 


New    York 
The  Century  Co. 


Copyright,  1005,  1006,  by 
The  Centur?  Co. 


Puklidxd  October,  iqob 


Pnnteu  in  U     S.  A. 


TO 
M7  KINDLY  CRITICS 
RUTH    AND    MOLLY 


t 
(X) 


CONTENTS 


■HAPTEB 


PAGE 


i  The  Crimson  Sweater's  First  Appearance  3 

ii  Roy  Makes  an  Enemy  and  a  Friend     ....       15 

in  A  Midnight  Hazing 28 

rv  Roy  Changes  His  Mind 35 

v  Chub  Eaton  Introduces  Himself 45 

vi  Methuselah  Has  a  Sore  Throat 58 

vn  Coaches  and  Players 67 

vm  Forrest  Loses  His  Temper  and  Roy  Keeps  His 

Promise 87 

rx  Red  Hair  and  White  Rabbits 98 

x  The  Cross-Country  Race Ill 

xi  Harry  Funds  a  Clue 121 

xn  A  Night  ln  the  Quarry 132 

xm  Forming  the  Hockey  Team 143 

xrv  The  Entertainment  and  How  it  Ended  .    .    .   155 

xv  A  Defeat,  a  Victory  and  a  Challenge  .    .    .   164 

xvi  "  Just  for  the  School  " 176 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

xvii  The  Hockey  Championship  is  Decided    .         0  185 

xvni  On  Fox  Island 200 

xix  A  Night  Alarm 209 

xx  Roy  Visits  Hammond 220 

xxi  Ferry  Hill  Changes  Its  Leader 230 

xxn  The  Poaching 244 

xxtti  On  Inner  Bounds 254 

xxiv  Sid's  Popular  Protest— and  What  Followed  265 

xxv  The  Boat-Race 279 

xxvi  The  Game  with  Hammond 288 

xxvh  The  Crimson  Sweater  Disappears      ....  300 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  final  game  between  Ferry  Hill  and  Hammond 

Frontispiece 

PACING  PAGE 

Mr.  Cobb  and  the  search-party  looking  for  Roy    .    .    .  128 

"Quiet  fell  over  Fox  Island" 208 

"Roy's  bearers  waited"        312 


THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 


THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   CRIMSON   SWEATER'S  FIRST   APPEARANCE 

"TTELLO,  Lobster!" 

-LJL  The  boy  in  the  crimson  sweater  raised  a  pair  of 
blue  eyes  to  the  speaker's  face  and  a  little  frown  crept 
into  the  sun-burned  forehead;  but  there  was  no  answer. 

"Where  'd  you  get  that  sweater?" 

The  older  boy,  a  tall,  broad-shouldered,  deep -chested 
youth  of  nineteen,  with  a  dark,  not  altogether  pleasant 
face,  paused  on  his  way  down  the  gymnasium  steps  and 
put  the  question  sneeringly.  Below,  on  the  gravelled 
path  leading  to  the  athletic  field,  a  little  group  of  fellows 
had  turned  and  were  watching  expectantly;  Horace 
Burlen  had  a  way  of  taking  conceit  out  of  new  boys 
that  was  always  interesting.  To  be  sure,  in  the  present 
case  the  new  boy  did  n't  look  especially  conceited — unless 
it  is  conceit  to  appear  for  football  practice  in  a  dandy 
crimson  sweater  which  must  have  cost  well  up  in  two 
figures— but  you  never  could  tell,  and,  anyway,  Horace 
Burlen  was  the  school  leader  and  had  a  right  to  do  what 

3 


4  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

he  pleased.  Just  at  present  it  pleased  him  to  scowl 
fiercely,  for  the  new  boy  was  displaying  a  most  annoying 
deliberation.  Horace  examined  the  other  with  awaken- 
ing interest.  He  was  a  fairly  tall  youth,  sixteen  years 
of  age,  well  set  up  with  good  chest  and  shoulders  and 
rather  wide  hips.  Like  Horace,  the  younger  boy  was 
in  football  togs,  only  his  sweater  instead  of  being  brown 
was  crimson  and  in  place  of  the  letters  "F  H"  sported 
by  Horace  the  front  of  his  garment  showed  where  the 
inscription  "H  2nd"  had  been  ripped  away.  But  the 
difference  between  the  two  boys  did  n  't  end  there ; 
Horace  Burlen  was  tall  and  big  and  dark;  Roy  Porter 
was  several  inches  shorter,  not  so  wide  of  shoulder  nor 
so  deep  of  chest ;  and  whereas  Horace 's  hair  was  straight 
and  black,  Roy's  was  light,  almost  sandy,  and  was  in- 
clined to  be  curly.  Under  the  hair  was  a  good-looking 
sun-browned  face,  with  a  short,  well-built  nose,  a  good 
mouth  and  a  pair  of  nice  grey-blue  eyes  which  at  this 
moment  were  regarding  Horace  calmly.  The  older  boy 
scowled  threateningly. 

' '  Say,  kid,  at  this  school  we  teach  'em  to  answer  when 
they  're  spoken  to ;  see  ?  Where  'd  you  get  that  silly  red 
sweater  ? ' ' 

"It  was  given  to  me,"  answered  Roy  coolly. 

' '  Think  you  '11  ever  grow  enough  to  fill  it  ? " 

"I  guess  so." 

"Who  gave  it  to  you?" 

"Seems  to  me  they  're  a  bit  inquisitive  at  this  school. 
But  if  you  must  know,  my  brother  gave  it  to  me. ' ' 


THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER'S  FIRST  APPEARANCE         5 

' '  Too  big  for  him,  was  n  't  it  ? " 

Roy  smiled. 

"Not  to  speak  of.    He  got  a  better  one." 

"Hope  he  changed  the  color,"  said  Horace  with  a 
sneer. 

"Why,  yes,  he  did,  as  it  happened.  His  new  one  is 
black  with  a  crimson  H." 

Horace  started  and  shot  a  quick  glance  up  and  down 
the  form  confronting  him. 

"Is  your  brother  Porter  of  the  Harvard  eleven?"  he 
asked  with  a  trace  of  unwilling  respect  in  his  voice. 
Roy  nodded. 

"I  suppose  you  think  you  can  play  the  game  because 
he  can,  eh?    What  's  your  name?" 

"Porter,"  answered  Roy  sweetly. 

"Don't  get  fresh,"  admonished  the  other  angrily. 
' '  What  's  your  first  name  ? ' ' 

"I  guess  it  will  do  if  you  just  call  me  Porter,"  was 
the  reply.  There  was  a  sudden  darkening  of  the  blue 
eyes  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  lips  still  smiled 
serenely  Horace  saw  the  danger  signal  and  respected  it. 

"You  're  a  pretty  fresh  young  kid  at  present,  but 
you  '11  get  some  of  it  taken  out  of  you  before  you  're 
here  long,"  said  the  school  leader  turning  away.  "And 
I  'd  advise  you  to  take  off  that  red  rag;  it  's  too  much 
like  the  Hammond  color  to  be  popular  here." 

"Fresh,  am  I?"  mused  Roy,  watching  the  other  join 
the  group  below  and  cross  the  lawn  toward  the  field. 
"I  wonder  what  he  thinks  he   is?     If  he   ever   asb? 


6  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATEE 

me  I  '11  migMy  soon  tell  him !  Red  rag !  I  '11  make  him 
take  that  back  some  day,  see  if  I  don 't. ' ' 

Roy's  angry  musings  were  interrupted  by  the  sudden 
outward  swing  of  the  big  oak  door  behind  him.  A 
dozen  or  so  of  Ferry  Hill  boys  in  football  attire  trooped 
out  in  company  with  Mr.  Cobb,  an  instructor  who  had 
charge  of  the  football  and  baseball  coaching.  Roy  fell 
in  behind  the  group,  crossed  the  lawn,  passed  through 
the  gate  in  the  well-trimmed  hedge  and  found  himself 
on  the  edge  of  the  cinder  track.  The  gridiron  had  just 
been  freshly  marked  out  for  this  first  practice  of  the 
year  and  the  white  lines  gleamed  brightly  in  the  after- 
noon sunlight.  Half  a  dozen  footballs  were  produced 
from  a  canvas  bag  and  were  speedily  bobbing  crazily 
across  the  turf  or  arching  up  against  the  blue  sky.  Roy, 
however,  remained  on  the  side-line  and  looked  about 
him. 

Beyond  the  field  was  a  border  of  trees  and  an  occa- 
sional telegraph  pole  marking  the  road  over  which  he 
had  journeyed  the  evening  before  from  the  Silver  Cove 
station,  where  he  had  left  the  train  from  New  York— 
and  home.  That  word  home  sounded  unusually  pleasant 
to-day.  Not  that  he  was  exactly  homesick,  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  this  was  his  first  experience  of  boarding 
school  life;  he  would  have  been  rather  indignant,  I 
fancy,  at  the  suggestion;  but  he  had  made  the  mistake 
of  reaching  Ferry  Hill  School  a  day  too  early,  had  spent 
the  night  in  a  deserted  dormitory  and  had  killed  time 
since  then  in  arranging  his  possessions  in  the  scanty 


THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER'S  FIRST  APPEARANCE        7 

cupboard  assigned  to  him  and  in  watching  the  arrival  of 
his  future  companions.  It  had  been  a  dull  time  and  he 
may,  I  think,  be  pardoned  if  his  thoughts  turned  for 
an  instant  a  bit  wistfully  toward  home.  Brother  Lau- 
rence had  given  him  a  good  deal  of  advice — probably 
very  excellent  advice — before  taking  himself  away  to 
Cambridge,  fall  practice  and  glory,  and  part  of  it  was 
this: 

"Keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  Roy,  mind  your  own  affairs 
and  when  you  're  down  on  your  luck  or  up  against  a 
bigger  man  grin  just  as  hard  as  you  can  grin. ' ' 

That  was  the  Harvard  way,  although  Roy  did  n  't 
know  it  then.  But  now  he  recalled  the  advice — and 
grinned.  Then  he  began  again  the  examination  of  his  sur- 
roundings. Very  beautiful  surroundings  they  were,  too. 
To  his  left,  beyond  the  turn  of  the  track,  were  the  tennis 
courts  all  freshly  limed.  Beyond  those  the  trees  began 
and  sloped  gently  upward  and  away  in  a  forest  of 
swaying  branches.  Turning,  he  saw,  below  the  courts, 
and  divided  from  them  by  a  stone  wall,  a  good-sized 
orchard  across  which  the  apple  and  pear  trees  marched 
as  straightly  and  evenly  as  a  regiment  of  soldiers. 
Below  the  orchard  lay  the  vegetable  garden,  filled  with 
the  blue-green  of  late  cabbages  and  the  yellower  hues 
of  waving  corn.  Then,  facing  still  further  about,  until 
the  field  was  at  his  back,  he  could  look  over  the  level 
top  of  the  wide  hedge  and  so  down  the  slope  of  the 
campus.  To  his  right  were  the  two  white  barns  and 
clustering   outhouses   with   the   tower    of    School    Hall 


8  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

rising  beyond  them.  Further  to  the  left  was  the  red 
brick,  vine-draped  "Cottage,"  residence  of  the  Principal, 
Doctor  Emery,  and  his  family.  Then,  further  away 
down  the  sloping  turf,  stood  Burgess  Hall,  the  dormitory 
and  dining  room,  while  here,  close  by,  was  the  handsome 
new  gymnasium.  Beyond  the  campus  the  "Grove,"  a 
small  plantation  of  beech  and  oaks,  shaded  the  path 
which  led  to  the  river  and  the  boat  house  at  its  margin. 
A  long  expanse  of  the  Hudson  was  in  sight  from  where 
he  stood,  its  broad,  rippled  surface  aglint  in  the  Sep- 
tember sunshine.  At  the  far  side  of  the  stream,  a  group 
of  red  buildings  huddled  under  giant  elms,  stood  Ham- 
mond Academy,  Ferry  Hill's  life-long  rival.  In  the 
far  distance  loomed  the  blue  summits  of  the  nearer 
mountains.  Yes,  it  was  all  very  beautiful  and  pictur- 
esque, and  Roy  admitted  the  fact  ungrudgingly;  he  was 
very  anxious  to  discover  merits  and  lovable  qualities 
in  the  place  which  was  to  be  his  home  for  the  better 
part  of  the  next  two  years. 

"This  way,  everybody!"  called  Mr.  Cobb,  and  Roy 
turned  and  joined  the  group  of  candidates.  There  were 
forty-three  students  at  Ferry  Hill  that  year,  and  at 
first  glance  it  seemed  that  every  last  one  of  them  had 
decided  to  try  for  the  football  team.  But  a  second  look 
would  have  found  a  handful  of  juniors  whose  size  or 
age  made  them  ineligible  watching  proceedings  from 
the  side-line.  And  there  were  one  or  two  older  boys, 
too,  among  the  spectators,  and  Roy  wondered  whether 


THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER'S  FIRST  APPEARANCE  9 

they;  were  crippled  or  ill !  Surely  no  healthy  boy  could 
be  content  to  watch  from  the  side-line ! 

"Fellows  who  played  in  the  varsity  or  second  last 
year,"  directed  Mr.  Cobb,  "take  the  other  end  of  the  field 
and  practice  passing  for  a  while.  I  '11  be  down  presently. 
<Captain  Rogers  won't  be  out  until  half -past  four.  The 
rest  of  you  chaps  get  a  couple  of  balls  and  come  over 
this  way.  That  's  it.  Make  a  circle  and  pass  the  balls 
around.  Stand  nearer  together  than  that,  you  fellows 
over  there.    That  's  better." 

Eoy  found  himself  between  a  short,  stout  youth  of 
apparently  fourteen  and  an  older  boy  whose  age  might 
have  been  anywhere  from  sixteen  to  eighteen.  He  re- 
minded Roy  of  a  weed  which  had  spent  all  its  time 
growing  upward  and  had  forgotten  to  fill  out  at  the 
sides.  He  wore  a  faded  brown  sweater  with  crossed 
oars  dividing  the  letters  F  H.  Roy  experienced  a  touch 
of  respect  for  him  as  a  member  of  the  crew  quite  out 
of  keeping  with  the  feeling  of  amusement  aroused  by 
his  lanky  body,  unkempt  hair  and  unpleasant  beady 
brown  eyes.  Roy  liked  the  little  chunky  youth  on  his 
other  side  better.  He  was  evidently  a  new  hand  and 
was  in  a  continual  funk  for  fear  he  would  drop  the 
ball  when  Roy  passed  it  to  him.  For  this  reason  Roy 
took  some  pains  to  put  it  to  him  easily  and  where  he 
could  best  catch  it,  a  piece  of  thoughtfulness  that  more 
than  once  brought  a  shy  glance  of  gratitude  from  the 
youngster's  big,  round  eyes.    But  if  Roy  gave  courtesies 


10  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE 

he  received  none.  The  lanky  youth  seemed  to  be  trying 
to  slam  the  ball  at  Roy  as  hard  as  he  knew  how  and 
once  Roy  caught  a  gleam  of  malicious  amusement  from 
the  squinting  eyes. 

"Just  you  wait  a  minute,  my  friend,"  he  muttered. 

Despite  the  tall  boy's  best  endeavors  he  was  unable 
to  make  Roy  fumble.  No  matter  where  he  shot  the 
ball  nor  how  hard  he  sent  it,  Roy's  hands  gripped  them- 
selves about  it.  After  one  especially  difficult  handling 
of  the  pigskin  Roy  looked  up  to  find  Mr.  Cobb  watching 
him  with  evident  approval.  The  big  fellow  who  had 
taken  exception  to  the  crimson  sweater  was  not  in  the 
squad  and  Roy  concluded  that  he  was  one  of  the  last 
year  team.  Presently  the  order  came  to  reverse  and 
the  balls  began  going  the  other  way.  Here  was  Roy's 
chance  for  revenge  and  he  didn't  let  it  slip.  The 
first  two  balls  he  passed  to  his  tall  neighbor  quite  nicely, 
but  when  the  third  one  reached  him  he  caught  it  in 
front  of  him  and  without  turning  his  body  sped  it  on 
swift  and  straight  for  the  tall  one's  chest.  The  tall 
one  wasn't  expecting  it  quite  so  soon  and  Roy  looked 
properly  regretful  when  the  ball  went  bobbing  away 
into  the  center  of  the  circle  and  the  shaggy-haired 
youth  went  sprawling  after  it,  only  to  miss  it  at  the 
first  try  and  have  to  crawl  along  on  elbows  and  knees 
until  he  had  it  snuggled  under  his  body.  The  tall  one 
rewarded  Roy  with  a  scowl  when  he  got  back  to  his 
place,  but  Roy  met  the  scowl  with  a  look  of  cherubic 
innocence,  and  only  Mr.  Cobb,  watching  from  outside 


THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER'S  FIRST  APPEARANCE         H 

the  circle,  smiled  as  he  turned  away.  After  that  Roy- 
kept  the  tall  one  guessing,  but  there  were  no  more 
fumbles.     Presently  Mr.  Cobb  called  a  halt. 

"That  '11  do,  fellows.  I  want  to  get  your  names  now, 
so  keep  your  places  a  moment." 

Out  came  a  note  book  and  pencil  and  one  by  one 
the  candidates'  names  were  entered.  Roy  looked  on 
while  he  awaited  his  turn  and  thought  that  he  was 
going  to  like  Mr.  Cobb.  The  instructor  was  rather 
small,  a  trifle  bald-headed  and  apparently  a  bunch  of 
muscles.  His  scarcity  of  hair  could  hardly  have  been 
due  to  advanced  age  for  he  didn't  look  a  bit  over 
thirty.  In  his  time  he  had  been  a  good  quarter-back 
on  his  college  eleven  and  one  of  the  best  shortstops  of 
his  day. 

The  small  youth  at  Roy's  right,  after  darting  several 
diffident  looks  in  his  direction,  at  length  summoned 
courage  to  address  him. 

"You  're  a  new  boy,  aren't  you?"  he  asked. 

' '  Brand  new, ' '  answered  Roy  smilingly.  ' '  How  about 
you?" 

"Oh,  I  've  been  here  two  years."  The  knowledge 
lent  a  degree  of  assurance  and  he  went  on  with  less 
embarrassment.  ' '  I  was  a  junior  last  year  and  could  n  't 
play.  You  know,  they  won't  let  the  juniors  play  football 
here.    Mighty  mean,  I  think,  don 't  you  ? ' ' 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  answered  Roy.  "I  played 
when  I  was  twelve,  but  I  guess  it  's  pretty  risky  for 
a  kid  of  that  age  to  do  it.    How  old  are  you?" 


12  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"  Fourteen.  Do  you  think  I  '11  stand  any  show  to 
get  on  the  team?" 

"Why  not!    You  look  pretty  solid.     Can  you  run?" 

"Not  very  fast.  Ferris  said  I  wouldn't  have  any 
show  at  all  and  so  I  thought  I  'd  ask  you;  you  seemed 
to  know  about  football." 

' '  Did  I  ?    How  could  you  tell  ? ' '  asked  Roy  surprisedly. 

"Oh,  by  the  way  you— went  at  it,"  answered  the 
other  vaguely. 

"Oh,  I  see.     Who  's  Ferris ? ' ' 

' '  S-sh ! ' '  The  small  youth  lowered  his  voice.  ' '  That  's 
he  next  to  you;  Otto  Ferris.  He  's  trying  for  half' 
back.    He  almost  made  it  last  year." 

"Is  he  on  the  crew?"  asked  Roy. 

"Yes,  Number  Three.  He  's  a  particular  chum  of 
Burlen  's. ' ' 

"You  don't  say?    And  who  's  Burlen?" 

The  other's  features  expressed  surprise  and  something 
very  much  like  pain. 

' '  Don 't  you  know  who  Burlen  is  ? "  he  asked  incredu- 
lously.   "Why,  he  's— " 

But  Roy's  curiosity  had  to  go  unsatisfied  for  the 
moment,  for  Mr.  Cobb  appeared  with  his  book. 

'rWell,  Sidney,  you  're  out  for  the  team  at  last,  eh?" 

' '  Yes,  sir ;  do  you  think  I  can  make  it,  sir  ? " 

"Who  knows?  You  '11  have  to  get  rid  of  some  of 
that  fat,  though,  my  boy."  Mr.  Cobb  turned  to 
Roy. 

"Let  's  see,  I  met  you  last  evening,  didn't  I?" 


1  HE  CRIMSON  SWEATER'S  FIRST  APPEARANCE        13 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I    thought    so;    and    the    name    was— er — Brown 
wasn't  it?" 

"Porter,  sir." 

"Oh,  Porter;  I  remember  now.    How  old  are  you?" 

"Sixteen,  sir." 

"Played  before,  haven't  you?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Where  abouts?" 

"In  New  York,  on  my  grammar  school  eleven." 

"What  position?" 

"Quarter,  first;  then  left  half." 

"Which  was  the  best?" 

"Quarter,  I  think,  sir." 

"What  class  are  you  in?" 

"Second  senior." 

"Thank  you;  that  's  all." 

The  coach  passed  on  and  Sidney  claimed  Roy's  atten- 
tion again. 

"Do  you  think  I  'm  very  fat?"    he  asked  anxiously. 

"I  should  say  you  had  about  ten  or  twelve  pounds 
that  might  as  well  come  off,"  answered  Boy. 

"Does  drinking  vinegar  help?" 

"I  never  tried  it,"  laughed  Roy.  "But  exercise  is  a 
heap  surer." 

"All  right,  fellows,"  called  the  coach.  "Ferris,  you 
take  charge  of  the  squad  until  I  come  back.  Let  them 
fall  on  the  ball  a  while.  I  want  Gallup  and  Rogers  to 
come  with  me." 


14  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATEE 

A  sturdily-built  youth  stepped  out  of  the  group  and 
Mr.  Cobb  looked  around  a  trifle  impatiently. 

"Rogers!" 

There  was  no  answer.  Roy  thought  the  coach  was 
looking  at  him,  but  could  n't  think  why  he  should.  Then 
he  heard  Sidney's  voice  at  his  elbow. 

' '  He  means  you !  He  never  remembers  names.  You  'd 
better  go." 

Doubtfully  Roy  stepped  forward. 

' '  Oh,  there  you  are ! ' '  exclaimed  Mr.  Cobb.  ' '  What  's 
the  trouble  with  your  ears  ?    Not  deaf,  are  you  ? ' ' 

"No,  sir,"  answered  Roy  meekly. 

"That  's  good.  You  must  keep  your  ears  open  here 
and  step  lively  when  you  're  called.  I  'm  going  to  give 
you  two  a  try  on  the  first  squad.    Come  on." 

And  Mr.  Cobb  strode  briskly  off  dowE.  the  field. 


CHAPTER  II 

ROY  MAKES  AN  ENEMY  AND  A  FRIEND 

A  FEW  minutes  later  Roy  found  himself  acting  as 
quarter-back  on  one  of  the  two  squads  made  up 
of  last  season's  first  and  second.  The  boy  in  front  of 
him,  playing  center,  was  a  big  youth  who  had  a  half 
hour  before  insulted  his  precious  sweater  and  who  Roy 
now  discovered  to  be  Horace  Burlen.  Burlen  had  n  't 
shown  himself  especially  delighted  at  Roy's  advent,  but 
so  far  had  refrained  from  addressing  him.  For  a  time 
the  work  went  well  enough.  Each  squad,  since  there 
were  not  enough  players  present  to  make  up  two  full 
elevens,  held  nine  men,  five  in  the  line  and  four  behind 
it,  and  the  work  consisted  of  snapping  the  ball  back 
by  center  and  handing  it  to  one  of  the  backs  by  quarter. 
No  signals  were  used  and  the  passing  was  slow,  the  idea 
being  merely  to  accustom  the  players  to  handling  the 
ball.  Roy  was  instructed  in  the  holding  of  the  pigskin 
and  in  passing  and  the  backs  in  receiving  the  ball  and 
placing  it  against  the  body.  Roy  showed  an  aptitude 
for  the  work  which  more  than  vindicated  Mr.  Cobb's 
judgment  and  for  ten  minutes  or  so,  during  which  time 
Roy's  squad  traversed  the  length  of  the  field,  there  were 

15 


16  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

few  fumbles  and  few  mistakes.  But  presently,  when 
Mr.  Cobb  had  taken  himself  off  to  the  other  squad,  the 
ztj  of  ' '  Ball ! ' '  went  up  and  Roy  was  on  his  stomach 
snuggling  the  oval  in  his  arms.  The  backs  took  their 
places  again  and  the  ball  went  back  to  center.  This 
time  there  was  no  hitch,  and  full-back,  followed  by  left 
and  right  halves,  trotted  through  the  line  between  guard 
and  tackle.  But  on  the  next  play  the  erratic  pigskin 
again  eluded  Roy's  hands,  and  after  that  fumbles  and 
the  cry  of  "Ball!  Ball!"  became  so  frequent  that  Mr. 
€obb's  attention  was  attracted  and  he  came  over. 

"What  's  the  trouble  here1?  Who  's  doing  all  that 
fumbling?"  he  demanded. 

"My  fault,  sir,"  answered  Roy. 

"What  's  the  matter?" 

"I  can't  seem  to  get  my  hands  on  to  it,  sir.  I  don't 
think — I  don't  think  it  is  coming  back  very  well." 

Horace  Burlen  turned  wrathfully. 

"You  're  no  good,  that  's  what  's  the  trouble  with 
you ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  'm  sending  that  ball  back  same 
as  I  always  do." 

"Well,  try  it  again,"  said  the  coach. 

Strange  to  tell  there  were  no  more  fumbles  as  long  as 
Mr.  Cobb  was  by,  but  almost  as  soon  as  his  back  was 
turned  the  trouble  began  again.  Fumbles,  perhaps,  wen- 
not  so  frequent,  but  almost  always  there  was  delay  in 
getting  the  ball  from  center  to  back.  Finally  Horace 
Burlen  stood  up  and  faced  Roy  disgustedly. 


EOY  MAKES  AN  ENEMY  AND  A  FRIEND  17 

"Say,  kid,  can't  you  learn  to  handle  that  ball?"  he 
asked.    "Haven't  you  ever  seen  a  football  before?" 

Roy  strove  to  keep  his  temper,  which  was  already  at 
boiling  point. 

"I  '11  do  my  part  if  you  '11  do  yours,"  he  said. 
' '  You  're  trying  to  see  how  poorly  you  can  pass. ' ' 

"Oh,  get  out!  I  played  football  when  you  were  in 
the  nursery!  Maybe  if  you  'd  take  that  red  rag  off 
you  'd  be  able  to  use  your  arms." 

Somebody  behind  him  chuckled  and  Roy  had  to  shut 
his  lips  resolutely  to  keep  back  the  angry  words. 
Finally, 

"Ball  to  left  half,  through  left  tackle,"  he  called. 
Horace  grunted  and  stooped  again  over  the  pigskin. 
Again  the  ball  came  back,  this  time  trickling  slowly 
along  on  the  turf.  The  next  time  it  came  back  high  and 
to  the  left  and  was  fumbled.  Roy  said  nothing  as  he 
recovered  it  and  pushed  it  back  to  center,  but  it  was 
plain  that  the  fellows,  whispering  amongst  themselves, 
were  losing  interest  in  the  work.  Roy,  without  turning 
his  head,  became  aware  of  the  presence  of  a  newcomer 
behind  him.  He  supposed  it  was  Mr.  Cobb  and  hoped 
the  coach  would  notice  the  manner  in  which  Burlen 
was  snapping  back.  This  time  the  ball  was  deliberately 
sent  back  to  Roy  as  hard  as  Horace  could  send  it  with 
the  result  that  it  bounded  from  his  hands  before  he 
could  close  his  fingers  about  it  and  went  wiggling  off 
across  the  turf.    Roy,  arising  to  go  after  it,  almost  ran 

2 


18  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

into  a  tall,  good-looking  youth  of  apparently  eighteen 
a  youth  with  clean-cut  features  and  snapping  grey  eyes. 

"That  will  do,  Horace,"  said  the  newcomer  dryly. 
"You  can  rest  awhile.    You  're  pretty  had." 

The  center,  facing  around  with  a  start  of  mingled 
surprise  and  dismay,  met  the  unsmiling  eyes  of  the 
captain  with  an  attempt  at  bravado. 

"Hello,  Jack,"  he  said.  "It  's  about  time  you  came. 
They  've  given  us  the  worst  apology  for  a  quarter  you 
ever  saw.    Why,  he  can 't  hold  the  ball ! ' ' 

"Yes,  I  noticed  it,"  replied  Jack  Rogers.  "And  I 
noticed  that  you  seemed  to  have  an  idea  that  this  prac- 
tice is  just  for  fun.  You  'd  better  take  a  couple  of 
turns  around  the  track  and  go  in.  0  Ed!  Ed  Whit- 
comb  !  Come  over  here  and  play  center.  Fernald,  you 
take  Ed 's  place  on  the  other  squad. ' ' 

The  changes  were  made  in  a  trice.  After  a  muttered 
protest  that  the  captain  paid  no  heed  to  and  a  threat- 
ening look  at  Roy,  Horace  Burlen  took  himself  off.  The 
captain  went  into  the  left  of  the  line  and  practice  was 
taken  up  again.  After  that  there  was  no  more  trouble. 
Presently  Mr.  Cobb  called  a  halt  and  the  candidates 
were  put  at  punting  and  catching,  which,  followed  by 
a  trot  twice  around  the  quarter-mile  cinder  track,  com- 
pleted the  afternoon's  work. 

Roy  had  worked  rather  hard  and,  as  a  result,  he 
found  himself  pretty  well  out  of  breath  when  the 
second  lap  was  half  over.  He  had  gradually  dropped 
back  to  last  place  in  the  straggling  procession  and  when 


ROY  MAKES  AN  ENEMY  AND  A  FRIEND  19 

the  end  of  the  run  was  in  sight  he  was  practically  alone 
on  the  track,  almost  all  of  the  others  having  turned  in 
through  the  gate  and  made  for  the  gym.  Eoy  had  just 
finished  the  turn  at  an  easy  jog  when  he  heard  cries  of 
distress  from  the  direction  of  the  stables  behind  him. 

"Spot,  drop  it!  Oh,  you  bad,  wicked  cat!  John! 
John!  "Where  are  you,  John?  Spot!  Spot!  O-o-oh!" 
The  exclamations  ended  in  a  wild,  long-drawn  wail  of 
feminine  anguish. 

"A  girl,"  thought  Roy.  "Wonder  what  's  up.  Guess 
I  'd  better  go  see. ' ' 

Turning,  he  struck  off  from  the  track  at  a  run, 
crossed  a  triangle  of  turf  and  found  himself  confronted 
by  the  wide  hedge.  But  he  could  see  over  it,  and  what 
he  saw  was  an  odd  little  enclosure  formed  by  one  end 
of  the  barn  and  two  walls  of  packing  cases  and  boxes 
piled  one  upon  another.  In  the  center  of  the  enclosure 
stood  a  girl  with  the  bluest  of  blue  eyes,  the  reddest  of 
red  hair  and  the  most  despairing  of  freckled  faces.  At 
first  glance  she  seemed  to  be  surrounded  by  dogs  and 
cats  and  pigeons;  afterwards  Roy  found  that  the  animals 
were  not  so  numerous  as  had  first  appeared.  The  girl 
saw  Roy  quite  as  soon  as  he  saw  her. 

"Oh,  quick,  quick!"  she  commanded,  pointing  toward 
the  roof  of  a  low  shed  nearby.  "Spot  has  got  one  of 
the  babies  and  he  's  killing  it !    Can 't  you  hurry,  boy  ? ' ' 

Roy  looked  doubtfully  at  the  broad  hedge.  Then  he 
retreated  a  few  steps,  took  a  running  jump,  landing 
three-quarters  way  across  the  top  and  wriggled  himself 


20  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

to  the  ground  on  the  other  side  in  a  confusion  of  circling 
pigeons. 

' '  Where  2 "  he  gasped  when  he  had  gathered  him- 
self up. 

"There!"  shrieked  the  girl,  still  pointing  tragically. 
"Can't  you  climb  up  and  get  it  away  from  him?  Can't 
you  do  anything,  you — you  stupid  silly?" 

At  last  Roy  saw  the  reason  for  her  fright.  On  the 
edge  of  the  shed  roof,  lashing  his  tail  in  ludicrous 
ferocity,  crouched  a  half -grown  cat,  and  under  his  claws 
lay  a  tiny  young  white  rabbit.  Roy  looked  hurriedly 
about  for  a  stick,  but  nothing  of  the  description  lay  at 
hand.  Meanwhile  the  red-haired  girl  taunted  him  to 
action,  interspersing  wails  of  despair  with  pleas  for 
help  and  sprinkling  the  whole  with  uncomplimentary 
reflections  on  his  courage  and  celerity. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  do  anything?"  she  wailed. 
"Are  you  going  to  stand  there  all  night?  Oh,  please, 
please  rescue  him ! ' ' 

The  reflection  on  Roy 's  celerity  were  n  't  at  all  merited, 
for  scarcely  a  quarter  of  a  minute  had  passed  since  his 
advent.  But  if  "the  baby"  was  to  be  rescued  there 
was  no  time  to  lose.  The  cat,  apparently  not  under- 
standing what  all  the  noise  and  excitement  was  about, 
still  held  his  captive  and  looked  down  wonderingly  from 
the  edge  of  the  roof.  Roy  hesitated  for  just  an  instant 
longer.  Then  he  seized  the  first  apparently  empty  box 
that  came  to  hand,  turned  it  upside-down  at  the  corner 
of  the  shed,  and,  amidst  more  despairing  shrieks  than 


ROY  MAKES  AN  ENEMY  AND  A  FRIEND  21 

ever,  leaped  onto  it.  Perhaps  he  was  scared  by  the 
sudden  appearance  of  Roy's  head  over  the  edge  of  the 
roof,  perhaps  by  the  renewed  and  more  appalling  clamor ; 
at  all  events  the  cat  abandoned  his  prey  on  the  instant 
and  took  off  along  the  roof.  Roy  managed  to  save  the 
rabbit  from  a  bad  fall  by  catching  it  in  one  hand  just 
as  it  rolled  over  the  edge  and  in  another  moment  was 
holding  it  forth,  a  very  badly  frightened  little  mass  of 
white  fur  and  pink  eyes,  to  its  distressed  mistress.  But 
strange  to  say  the  mistress  seemed  more  anguished  than 
ever.  What  she  was  saying  Roy  could  n  't  for  the  life 
of  him  make  out,  but  it  was  evidently  something  uncom- 
plimentary to  him.  In  another  moment  the  mystery 
was  explained.  Following  the  excited  gestures  of  the 
red-haired  girl,  Roy  turned  just  in  time  to  see  the  box 
upon  which  he  had  stood  topple  and  fall.  Whereupon 
from  out  of  it  stalked  a  highly  insulted  red  and  green 
parrot,  quite  the  largest  Roy  had  ever  seen.  The  bird 
emerged  with  ruffled  plumage  and  wrathful  eyes,  cocked 
his  head  on  one  side  and  remarked  fretfully  in  a  shrill 
voice : 

' '  WeU,  I  never  did !    Naughty  Poll !    Naughty  Poll ! ' ' 

Then  he  chuckled  wickedly  and  rearranged  his  feathers 
with  a  formidable  beak.  After  that  he  turned  and 
viewed  Roy  with  a  glittering,  beady  eye,  and, 

' '  Stop  your  swearing !  Stop  your  swearing !  Stop 
your  swearing ! "  he  shrieked  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

This  outburst  was  so  unexpected  and  excruciating 
that  Roy  gave  back  before  it.    But  as  though  satisfied 


22  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATJsb, 

with  the  dismay  he  had  caused  the  parrot  broke  out 
into  a  shrill  burst  of  laughter  and  waddled  toward  the 
girl,  who  had  now  transferred  her  attention  to  the 
rescued  rabbit. 

"I— I  didn't  know  he  was  in  the  box,"  stammered 
Roy. 

"No,  I  don't  suppose  you  did,"  answered  the  girl 
grudgingly.  "Boys  are  so  stupid!  You  might  have 
killed  him!  Come  here,  Methuselah,  and  tell  me  all 
about  it.  Did  the  wicked  boy  frighten  you  most  to 
death?  Did  he?  Well,  he  was  a  wicked  thing,  so  he 
was. ' ' 

The  parrot  closed  his  beak  carefully  about  one  of  her 
fingers  and  was  lifted  to  her  arm,  where  he  sat  in  ruffled 
dignity  and  stared  at  Roy  with  malevolent  gaze.  The 
rescued  rabbit  lay  meanwhile,  a  palpitating  bunch  of 
white,  in  the  girl 's  other  hand.  Presently,  having  exam- 
ined him  carefully  for  damages  and  found  none,  she 
stepped  to  one  of  the  boxes  and  deposited  him  on  a 
litter  of  straw  and  cabbage  leaves. 

"I  've  had  such  horrid  luck  with  the  babies,"  she 
said  confidently,  her  indignation  apparently  forgotten. 
' '  There  were  three  at  first.  Then  one  died  of  rheumatism 
— at  least,  I  'm  almost  sure  it  was  rheumatism,— and 
one  was  killed  by  a  rat  and  now  only  poor  little  Angel 
is  left.  I  call  him  Angel,"  she  explained,  turning  to 
her  audience,  "because  he  is  so  white.  Don't  you  think 
it  is  a  very  appropriate  name  ? ' ' 

Roy  nodded  silently.     Like  the  parrot,  he  had  had 


ROY  MAKES  AN  ENEMY  AND  A  FRIEND  23 

his  temper  a  bit  ruffled;  the  girl's  remarks  had  not  been 
especially  complimentary.  If  she  guessed  his  feelings 
she  showed  no  signs  of  it.    Instead, 

' '  You  're  a  new  boy,  are  n  't  you  ? ' '  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  answered  Roy. 

"What  's  your  name?" 

"Roy  Porter." 

"Mine  's  Harry— I  mean  Harriet  Emery;  they  call  me 
Harry.    Harriet  's  a  beast  of  a  name,  is  n  't  it  ? " 

Roy  hesitated,  somewhat,  taken  back. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  mind  being  polite,"  continued  the 
girl.  "I  hate  polite  people — I  mean  the  kind  that  say 
things  they  don't  mean  just  to  be  nice  to  you.  Harriet 
is  a  beast  of  a  name;  I  don't  care  if  I  was  named  for 
Aunt  Harriet  Beverly.  I  hate  it,  don't  you?  Oh,  I 
forgot !    You  're  one  of  the  polite  sort ! ' ' 

"No,  I  'm  not,"  answered  Roy,  laughing.  "I  don't 
like  Harriet  any  better  than  you  do.    But  I  like  Harry." 

"Do  you?"  she  asked  eagerly.  "Honest?  Hope 
to  die?" 

"Hope  to  die,"  echoed  Roy  gravely. 

"Then  you  may  call  me  Harry." 

"Thanks.    Is  Doctor  Emery  your  father?" 

"Yes.  Only  they  don't  call  him  Doctor  Emery— the 
boys,  I  mean." 

"Don't  they?    What  do  they  call  him?" 

"Emmy,"  answered  Harry  with  a  giggle.  "It  's  such 
a  funny  name  for  papa!  And  mamma  they  call  'Mrs. 
Em.'  " 


24  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"And  they  call  you  Harry?"  said  Roy  for  want  of 
something  better  to  say.  Harry's  head  went  up  on  the 
instant  and  her  blue  eyes  flashed. 

"You  'd  better  believe  they  don't!  That  is,  not  many 
of  them.    They  call  me  Miss  Harry. ' ' 

"Oh,  excuse  me,"  Roy  apologized.    "Miss  Harry." 

Harry  hesitated.    Then, 

"Those  that  I  like  call  me  Harry,"  she  said.  "And 
you— you  rescued  the  baby.  So— you  may  call  me 
Harry,  without  the  Miss,  you  know." 

"I  '11  try  to  deserve  the  honor,"  replied  Roy  very 
gravely. 

Harry  observed  him  suspiciously. 

"There  you  go  being  polite  and  nasty,"  she  said 
crossly.  Then,  with  a  sudden  change  of  manner,  she 
advanced  toward  him  with  one  very  brown  and  some- 
what dirty  little  hand  stretched  forth  and  a  ludicrous 
smirk  on  her  face.  "I  forgot  you  were  a  new  boy," 
she  said.  ' '  I  hope  your  stay  with  us  will  be  both  pleasant 
and  profitable." 

Roy  accepted  the  proffered  hand  bewilderedly. 

' '  There, ' '  she  said,  with  a  little  shake  of  her  shoulders 
and  a  quick  abandonment  of  the  funny  stilted  tone  and 
manner,  "there,  that  's  done.  Mamma  makes  me  do 
that,  you  know.    It  's  awfully  silly,  is  n  't  it  ? " 

Methuselah,  who,  during  the  conversation,  had  re- 
mained perched  silently  on  the  girl's  shoulder,  now 
decided  to  take  part  in  the  proceedings. 


EOY  MAKES  AN  ENEMY  AND  A  FRIEND  25 

"Well,  I  never  did!"  he  exclaimed  hoarsely.  "Can't 
you  be  quiet?  Naughty  Poll!  Stop  your  swearing! 
Stop  your  swearing!" 

This  resulted  in  his  banishment,  Roy,  at  Harry's  re- 
quest, returning  the  borrowed  box  to  its  place,  and  the 
parrot  being  placed  therein  with  strict  injunctions  to 
remain  there. 

"Doesn't  he  ever  get  away?"  asked  Roy. 

"Oh,  yes,  sometimes.  Once  he  got  into  the  stable  and 
went  to  sleep  on  the  head  of  John's  bed.  John  's  the 
gardener,  you  know.  And  when  he  came  in  and  saw 
Methuselah  sitting  there  he  thought  it  was  an  evil  spirit 
and  didn't  stop  running  until  he  reached  the  cottage. 
My,  he  was  scared ! ' '  And  Harry  giggled  mischievously 
at  the  recollection. 

Then  Roy  was  formally  introduced  to  the  numerous 
residents  of  the  enclosure.  Snip,  a  fox  terrier,  had 
already  made  friends.  Lady  Grey,  a  maltese  Angora 
cat,  who  lay  curled  up  contentedly  in  one  of  the  lower 
tier  of  boxes,  received  Roy's  caresses  with  well-bred 
condescension.  Joe,  one  of  her  kittens,  and  a  brother 
of  the  disgraced  Spot,  showed  more  interest  and  clawed 
Roy's  hand  in  quite  a  friendly  way.  In  other  boxes 
were  a  squirrel  called  "Teety,"  two  white  guinea  pigs, 
a  family  of  rabbits,  six  white  mice  and  a  bantam  hen 
who  resented  Roy's  advent  with  a  very  sharp  beak. 
And  all  about  fluttered  grey  pigeons  and  white  pigeons, 
fan-tails   and   pouters   and   many   more   the   names   of 


26  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

which  Roy  quickly  forgot  And  while  the  exhibition 
was  going  on  Roy  observed  the  exhibitor  with  not  a 
little  interest. 

Harriet — begging  her  pardon !  Harry — Emery  was 
fourteen  years  old,  fairly  tall  for  her  age,  not  over- 
burdened with  flesh  and  somewhat  of  a  tomboy.  Con- 
sidering the  fact  that  she  had  been  born  and  had  lived 
all  her  short  life  at  a  boys'  school  the  latter  fact  is  not 
unnatural.  I  might  almost  say  that  she  had  been  a  trifle 
spoiled.  That,  however,  would  be  rather  unkind,  for 
it  was  just  that  little  spice  of  spoiling  that  had  made 
Harry  so  natural  and  unaffected.  The  boys  called 
Harry  "a  good  fellow,"  and  to  Harry  no  praise  could 
have  been  sweeter.  As  might  have  been  expected,  she 
had  grown  up  with  a  fondness  for  boys'  sports  and 
interests,  and  could  skate  as  well  if  not  better  than  any 
pupil  Ferry  Hill  had  ever  known,  could  play  tennis 
well,  could  handle  a  pair  of  oars  knowingly  and  was  n't 
very  much  afraid  of  a  swiftly-thrown  baseball.  Her 
muscles  were  hard  and  illness  was  something  she  had 
long  since  forgotten  about.  But  in  spite  of  her  addic- 
tion for  boys'  ways  there  was  still  a  good  deal  of  the 
girl  about  her,  and  she  was  capable  of  a  dozen  different 
emotions  in  as  many  minutes. 

Roy  decided  that  she  was  rather  pretty.  Her  hair  was 
luridly  red,  but  many  persons  would  have  called  it  beau- 
tiful. Her  eyes  were  very  blue  and  had  a  way  of  looking 
at  you  that  was  almost  disconcerting  in  its  frank  direct- 
ness.   Her  face  was  brown  with  sunburn,  but  there  was 


ROY  MAKES  AN  ENEMY  AND  A  FRIEND  27 

color  in  the  cheeks.  A  short,  somewhat  pugnacious 
little  nose,  not  guiltless  of  freckles,  went  well  with  the 
red-lipped,  mischievous  mouth  beneath.  For  the  rest, 
Harry  was  a  wholesome,  lovable  little  minx  with  the 
kindest  heart  that  ever  beat  under  a  mussy  white  shirt- 
waist and  the  quickest  temper  that  ever  went  with  red 
hair. 

Roy's  examination  of  his  new  acquaintance  was  sud- 
denly interrupted  by  the  subject,  who  swung  around 
upon  him  with  an  expression  of  great  severity. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  asked,  "that  the  boys  are  n't 
allowed  in  here  without  permission  and  that  if  papa 
finds  it  out  you  '11  be  punished?" 

Roy  shook  his  head  in  bewilderment. 

"And,"  continued  Harry  impressively,  "that  John 
is  coming  along  the  lane,  and  that  if  he  sees  you  here 
he  '11  have  to  report  you,  and — " 

"What  shall  I  do?"  asked  Roy,  looking  about  for  an 
avenue  of  escape. 

"Why,"  said  Harry,  laughing  enjoyably  at  his  dis- 
comfiture, "just  stay  where  you  are.  I  'm  the  one  who 
gives  permission ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  III 

A   MIDNIGHT   HAZING 

AFTER  the  lights  were  out  that  night  Roy  lay  for 
-  quite  a  while  in  his  bed  in  the  Senior  Dormitory 
reviewing  the  day.  He  was  tired  as  a  result  of  the 
football  practice  and  he  had  a  lame  tendon  in  his  left 
leg  which  he  believed  he  had  sustained  in  his  flying 
leap  onto  the  hedge  when  going  to  the  relief  of  Angel, 
and  which  bothered  him  a  little  now  that  he  had  stopped 
using  it.  But  his  weariness  and  soreness  had  n't  kept 
him  from  eating  an  enormous  dinner  in  the  Dining  Hall 
down  stairs,  any  more  than  it  was  going  to  keep  him 
from  going  to  sleep  in  a  few  minutes. 

During  dinner  he  had  begun  to  feel  at  home.  He 
had  found  himself  at  Mr.  Cobb's  table,  which  later  on 
would  be  weeded  out  to  make  room  for  the  football 
players,  and  had  sat  next  to  Captain  Rogers,  who  had 
spoken  to  him  several  times  quite  affably,  but  not  about 
football.  The  other  fellows,  too,  had  shown  a  disposition 
to  accept  him  as  one  of  them,  if  we  omit  Horace  Burlen 
and  Otto  Ferris,  and  by  the  time  Roy  had  scraped  the 
last  morsel  of  pudding  from  his  dish  he  had  commenced 
to   think  that  life  at  Ferry  Hill  might  turn  out  to  be 

28 


A  MIDNIGHT  HAZING  29 

"both  pleasant  and  profitable,"  as  Harry  bad  phrased 
it.  After  dinner  he  had  spent  the  better  part  of  an 
hour  in  the  study  room  on  the  first  floor  composing  a 
letter  home.  That  finished,  he  had  wandered  down  to 
the  river  and  had  been  mildly  rebuked  by  Mr.  Buckman, 
an  instructor,  for  going  out  of  bounds  after  eight  o  'clock. 
There  had  been  prayers  at  nine  in  the  two  dormitories 
and  after  that,  in  the  midst  of  shouts  and  laughter  and 
general  "rough  house,"  he  had  undressed,  washed, 
donned  his  pajamas  and  jumped  into  the  narrow  white 
enamelled  bed  to  which  he  had  been  assigned. 

To-morrow  lessons  would  begin  and  he  wondered  how 
he  was  going  to  fare.  He  had  entered  on  a  certificate 
from  his  grammar  school  and  had  been  put  into  the 
Second  Senior  Class.  If  he  could  keep  up  with  that 
he  would  be  ready  for  college  in  two  years.  Roy's  father 
pretended  to  think  him  backward  because  he  would  not 
enter  until  he  was  eighteen,  and  delighted  in  telling  him 
of  boys  who  had  gone  to  college  at  sixteen.  But  Roy's 
mother  always  came  to  his  defence.  There  was  no  sense, 
she  declared  warmly,  in  boys  going  to  college  before 
they  were  old  enough  to  understand  what  it  meant  and 
to  derive  benefit  from  the  life.  And  Roy's  father  would 
shake  his  head  dubiously  and  mutter  that  he  had  never 
expected  a  son  of  his  to  be  a  dullard. 

Greek  and  English  were  what  Roy  was  afraid  of. 
Latin  and  mathematics  held  no  terrors  for  him.  As  for 
the  other  studies,  he  believed  he  could  worry  along  with 
them  all  right.    His  mother  had  hinted  hopefully  of  a 


30  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

scholarship,  but  Roy  knew  his  capabilities  better  than 
she  did  and  looked  for  no  such  honors. 

Meanwhile  the  dormitory,  full  of  whispers  and  re- 
pressed laughter  for  the  first  few  minutes  of  darkness, 
had  become  silent  save  for  a  snore  here  and  there.  Roy's 
thoughts  wandered  back  to  the  football  field  and  to 
Horace  Burlen,  who  was  lying  somewhere  near  in  the 
dark,  and  presently  his  eyelids  fell  together  and  he  was 
asleep. 

How  long  he  slept  he  never  knew,  but  when  he  awoke 
suddenly  to  find  hands  gently  shaking  him  by  the 
shoulders  it  seemed  that  it  must  be  morning.  But  the 
dormitory  was  still  in  darkness  and  the  breathing  of 
the  sleepers  still  sounded. 

"Get  up  and  don't  make  any  noise,"  commanded  a 
voice  at  his  ear.  Sleepily,  he  strove  to  get  his  thoughts 
together.  For  a  moment  nothing  was  very  clear  to  him. 
Then  the  command  was  repeated  a  trifle  impatiently  and 
Roy  began  to  understand. 

' '  What  for  ? "  he  asked,  temporizing. 

"Never  you  mind.  Just  you  do  what  we  tell  you,  and 
mind  you  make  no  fuss  about  it.  There  are  a  dozen  of 
us  here  and  we  won't  stand  any  nonsense." 

Roy  had  n  't  given  any  thought  to  hazing,  but  now  he 
concluded  that,  to  use  his  own  inelegant  expression,  he 
"was  up  against  it."  Of  course,  if  it  was  the  custom 
to  haze  new  boys  there  was  no  use  making  a  fuss  about 
it,  no  use  in  playing  baby.  The  only  thing  that  bothered 
him  was  that  the  speaker's  voice  sounded  unpleasantly 


A  MIDNIGHT  HAZING  31 

like  Horace  Burlen's  and  there  was  no  telling  to  what 
lengths  that  youth's  dislike  might  lead  him.  However, 
Ms  companions,  whoever  they  were,  would  probably  see 
fair  play.  So  Roy,  with  a  sigh,  tumbled  softly  out  of 
6ed.  He  could  just  see  indistinct  forms  about  him  and 
hear  their  breathing. 

"Hold  still,"  said  the  voice,  and  Roy,  obeying,  felt  a 
bandage  being  pressed  against  his  eyes  and  secured  be- 
hind his  head.  Then,  with  a  hand  grasping  each  arm, 
he  was  led  silently  across  the  floor.  Down  two  flights 
of  stairs  he  was  conducted,  through  the  lower  hall  and 
then  the  chill  night  air  struck  his  face.  More  steps, 
this  time  the  granite  flight  in  front  of  the  hall,  and  his 
bare  feet  were  treading  uncomfortably  on  the  gravel. 
So  far  there  had  been  no  sounds  from  his  captors.  Now, 
however,  they  began  to  whisper  amongst  themselves  and, 
although  he  couldn't  hear  what  was  being  said,  he 
gathered  that  they  were  undecided  as  to  where  to  take 
him.  The  procession  halted  and  all  save  the  two  who 
stood  guard  beside  him  drew  away.  The  night  air  began 
to  feel  decidedly  chill  and  he  realized  that  cotton  pajamas 
are  n't  the  warmest  things  to  wear  for  a  nocturnal  jaunt 
in  late  September.  Presently  the  others  returned  and 
they  started  on  again.  In  a  moment  the  path  began  to 
descend  and  Roy  remembered  with  a  sinking  heart  that 
he  had  trod  that  same  path  earlier  in  the  evening  and 
that  at  the  end  of  it  lay  the  river ! 

By  this  time  his  teeth  were  chattering  and  he  was 
quite    out    of    sympathy    with    the    adventure.     For    a 


32  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

moment  he  considered  escape.  But  if,  as  the  leader  of 
the  expedition  had  stated,  there  were  a  dozen  fellows 
in  the  party,  he  would  be  recaptured  as  sure  as  fate. 
Unconsciously  he  held  back. 

"None  of  that,"  said  the  voice  threateningly,  and  he 
was  pulled  forward  again.  For  a  few  steps  he  tried 
digging  his  heels  in  the  ground,  but  it  hurt  and  did 
no  good  anyhow.  So  he  went  on  without  further  re- 
sistance. In  a  minute  the  procession  stopped.  Then  he 
heard  the  keel  of  a  boat  grate  lightly  on  the  pebbles. 

"Step  up,"  was  the  command.  Roy  obeyed  and  felt 
the  planking  of  the  float  under  his  bare  feet.    Then, 

"Get  into  the  boat,"  said  the  voice.  Roy  did  so  very 
cautiously  and  found  a  seat.  Oars  were  dipped  into 
the  water  and  the  boat  moved  softly  away  from  the 
landing. 

' '  Can  you  swim  ? ' '  asked  the  voice,  and  this  time  Roy 
was  certain  that  it  was  Horace  Burlen's.  For  an  in- 
stant he  wondered  what  would  happen  if  he  said  no. 
Probably  they  would  devise  some  punishment  quite  as 
uncomfortable  as  a  ducking  in  the  lake.  The  latter 
wasn't  very  terrifying,  and,  at  all  events,  the  water 
could  n  't  be  much  colder  than  the  air  was !    So, 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  and  heard  a  chuckle. 

' '  Good,  you  '11  have  a  chance  to  prove  it ! " 

For  what  seemed  several  minutes  the  boat  was  paddled 
onward.  By  this  time,  thought  Roy,  they  must  be  a 
long  way  from  shore,  and  he  suddenly  wondered,  with 
a  little  sinking  at  his  heart,  whether  the  current  was 


A  MIDNIGHT  HAZING  33 

very  strong  thereabouts  and  how,  when  he  was  in  the 
water,  he  was  to  tell  in  which  direction  the  land  lay. 
Then  the  oars  had  ceased  creaking  in  the  row-locks  and 
the  boat  was  rocking  very  gently  in  the  water. 

"Stand  up,"  said  the  voice.  Hands  guided  him  as 
he  obeyed  and  steadied  him. 

"When  I  count  three  you  will  jump  into  the  water 
and  swim  for  land,"  continued  the  leader. 

"You  've  got  to  take  this  thing  off  my  eyes,  though," 
protested  Roy. 

"That  may  not  be,"  answered  the  voice  sternly,  and 
Roy  caught  a  giggle  from  behind  him  which  was  quickly 
suppressed. 

"Then  I  'm  hanged  if  I  '11  do  it,"  he  said  doggedly. 

"Better  to  jump  than  be  thrown,"  was  the  ominous 
reply. 

Roy  considered. 

"Which  way  do  I  swim?"  he  asked.  "Where  's  the 
landing?" 

"That  you  will  discover  for  yourself.  We  may  tell 
you  no  more." 

"Don't  see  that  you  've  told  me  much  of  anything," 
muttered  Roy  wrathfully.  "How  do  you  fellows  know 
that  there  isn't  a  big  old  rock  here?  Want  me  to  bust 
my  head  open?" 

"We  are  in  clear  water,"  was  the  answer.  "And"— 
and  now  the  formal  phraseology  was  abandoned— "  if 
you  don't  hurry  up  and  get  ready  we  '11  plaguey  soon 
heave  you  in  head  over  heels. ' ' 


34  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"Oh,  go  to  thunder,  you  old  bully!"  growled  Roy. 
"Go  ahead  and  do  your  counting.  I  'd  rather  be  ip  the 
river  than  here  with  you." 

"Take  him  out  farther,"  said  the  voice  angrily.  But 
the  order  was  n  't  obeyed.  Instead  there  was  a  whispered 
discussion  and  finally  the  voice  said : 

"All  right.  Now  then,  all  ready,  kid!  One!  .  .  . 
Two!     .     .     .     Three!" 

The  grasp  on  Roy's  arms  was  relaxed,  he  raised  them 
above  his  head  and  sprang  outward.  But  just  as  he 
was  clearing  the  boat  a  hand  shot  forward  and  grasped 
his  ankle  just  long  enough  to  spoil  his  dive.  Then  he  had 
struck  the  water  flat  on  his  stomach  and,  with  the 
breath  gone  from  his  body,  felt  it  close  over  his  head. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ROY  CHANGES   HIS  MIND 

FOR  an  instant  his  arms  thrashed  wildly.  Then  he 
was  standing,  gasping  and  sputtering,  with  the 
bandage  torn  away  and  the  ripples  breaking  against 
his  thighs!  From  the  bank,  only  a  few  feet  away,  came 
roars  of  laughter,  diminishing  as  his  captors,  having 
drawn  the  boat  up  onto  the  little  pebbly  beach,  stumbled 
up  the  path  toward  the  school.  And  Roy,  shivering  and 
chattering,  stood  there  in  a  scant  three  feet  of  icy  water 
and  impotently  shook  his  fist  in  the  darkness ! 

At  first,  as  he  scrambled  with  his  bare  feet  over  the 
sharp  pebbles  to  the  shore,  he  could  not  understand 
what  had  happened.  Then  he  realized  that  all  the 
rowing  had  been  in  circles,  or  possibly  back  and  forth 
along  the  shore.  For  some  reason  this  made  him  madder 
than  if  they  had  really  made  him  dive  into  deep  water 
beyond  his  depth.  They  had  made  a  perfect  fool  of  him  ! 
And  all  the  way  back  up  the  hill  and  across  the  campus 
he  vowed  vengeance— when  his  chattering  teeth  would 
let  him ! 

A  few  minutes  later,  divested  of  his  wet  pajamas,  he 
was  under  the  covers  again,  striving  to  get  some  warmth 


36  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

back  into  his  chilled  body.  "When  he  had  tip-toed 
noiselessly  into  the  dormitory  whispers  had  greeted  him 
and  unseen  persons  had  asked  softly  whether  he  had 
found  the  water  warm,  how  the  walking  was  and  how 
he  liked  diving.  But  Roy  had  made  no  answer  and  soon 
the  voices  had  been  stilled.  Sleep  was  long  in  coming 
to  him  and  when  it  did  it  brought  such  unpleasant 
dreams  that  he  found  little  rest. 

At  breakfast,  when  the  announcements  were  read  by 
Mr.  Buckman,  Roy  found  himself  one  of  four  boys  sum- 
moned to  call  on  Dr.  Emery  at  the  office  in  School  Hall 
after  the  meal  was  over.  Looking  up  he  encountered 
the  eyes  of  Horace  Burlen  fixed  upon  him  threateningly. 
Roy  smiled  to  himself.  So  they  were  afraid  that  he 
would  tell  on  them,  were  they  ?    Well,  they  'd  see ! 

When  Roy's  turn  to  enter  the  office  came,  after  a  few 
minutes  of  waiting  in  the  outer  room  in  company  with 
the  school  secretary,  he  found  himself  a  little  bit  nervous. 
Perhaps  the  Principal  had  already  learned  of  last  night's 
mischief  and  held  him  to  blame  in  the  matter. 

But  when,  five  minutes  or  so  later,  Roy  came  out  again 
he  looked  quite  contented.  In  the  outer  office  he  en- 
countered Mr.  Buckman,  who  nodded  to  him,  paused 
as  though  about  to  speak,  apparently  thought  better  of  it 
and  passed  on  into  the  Principal's  room.  Roy  hurried  over 
to  the  Senior  Dormitory,  armed  himself  with  books,  pad 
and  pencils  and  managed  to  reach  his  first  class  just 
as  the  doors  were  being  closed.  Lessons  went  well 
enough  that  first  day,  and  when,  at  four  o'clock,  Roy 


EOY  CHANGES  HIS  MIND 

trotted  onto  the  gridiron  for  afternoon  practice  he 
had  n't  a  worry  in  the  world.  Perhaps  that  is  one  reason 
why  he  did  such  good  work  at  quarter  on  the  second 
squad  that  Jack  Rogers  patted  him  once  on  the  shoulder 
and  told  him  to  "keep  it  up,  Porter, "  while  Mr.  Cobb  paid 
him  the  compliment  of  almost  remembering  his  name ! 

' '  Good  work,  Proctor ! ' '  said  the  coach. 

There  were  several  absentees  that  afternoon,  notably 
Horace  Burlen  and  Otto  Ferris,  and  there  was  much 
discussion  amongst  the  fellows  as  to  the  reason.  Before 
practice  was  over  the  report  had  got  around  that  the 
absent  ones  had  been  "placed  on  inner  bounds."  Roy 
did  n't  know  just  what  that  meant,  but  it  sounded  pretty 
bad,  and  he  was  almost  sorry  for  the  culprits.  When, 
after  practice  was  over,  Roy  did  his  two  laps  with  the 
others,  he  looked  across  the  hedge  as  he  passed  the 
stables.  The  doves  were  circling  about  in  the  late  sun- 
shine and  the  wicked  Spot  was  sunning  himself  on  the 
edge  of  the  shed  roof,  but  the  girl  with  the  red  hair 
was  not  in  sight. 

At  supper  Roy  found  a  decided  change  in  the  attitude 
of  the  fellows  toward  him.  Instead  of  the  friendly, 
half  curious  glances  of  the  night  before,  the  looks  he 
received  were  cold  and  contemptuous.  For  the  most 
part,  however,  the  fellows  avoided  noticing  him  and  all 
during  the  meal  only  Jack  Rogers  and  Mr.  Cobb  ad- 
dressed him,  the  former  to  inquire  where  he  had  played 
football  before  coming  to  Ferry  Hill  and  the  latter  to 
offer  him  a  second  helping  of  cold  meat.     Later  Roy 


38  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATEE 

accidentally  overheard  a  conversation  not  intended  for 
his  ears.  He  was  in  the  study  room,  whither  he  had 
taken  his  books.  The  window  beside  him  was  open  and 
under  it,  on  the  granite  steps  outside,  was  a  group  of 
the  younger  boys. 

"Emmy  called  them  to  the  office  at  noon,"  one  boy 
was  saying,  "and  raised  an  awful  row  with  them.  Said 
hazing  was  forbidden,  and  they  knew  it,  and  that  he 
had  a  good  mind  to  send  them  all  home.  He  tried  to 
get  them  to  tell  who  started  it,  but  they  would  n't.  So 
he  put  them  all  on  inner  bounds  for  a  month. ' ' 

' '  How  'd  he  know  who  was  in  it  ? "  asked  another  boy. 

' '  Why,  the  new  chap  squealed,  of  course ! ' '  was  the 
contemptuous  answer.  "Horace  Burlen  says  so.  Says 
he  does  n  't  know  how  he  guessed  the  other  fellows,  but 
supposes  he  recognized  him  by  his  voice.  A  mighty  dirty 
trick,  I  call  it." 

"That  's  the  way  with  those  public  school  fellows," 
said  a  third  speaker.     ' '  They  have  n  't  any  principles. ' ' 

"It  's  going  to  just  about  bust  up  the  eleven,"  said 
the  first  boy.  "Why,  there  's  Burlen  and  Ferris  and 
Gus  Pryor  and  Billy  Warren  all  football  men!" 

"Mighty  little  difference  Otto  Ferris 's  absence  will 
make,  though." 

"Oh,  he  'd  have  made  the  team  this  year,  all  right." 

"Well,  a  month  is  n't  very  long.  They  '11  get  back 
in  time  to  play  the  big  games. ' ' 

"S 'posing  they  do,  silly!  How  about  practice"  If 
Hammond  beats  us  this  year  it  will  be  that  Porter 
fellow's  fault." 


ROY  CHANGES  HIS  MIND  39 

"I  don't  believe  he  told  on  them,"  said  a  low  voice 
that  Roy  recognized  as  Sidney  Welch's.  "He— he 
does  n  't  look  like  that  sort ! ' ' 

"Doesn't,  eh?  Then  who  did  tell?  Think  they 
peached  on  themselves?"  was  the  scathing  reply. 
"You  'd  better  not  let  Horace  hear  you  talking  like 
that,  Sid!" 

Roy  stole  away  to  a  distant  table  with  burning  cheeks 
and  clenched  hands. 

When  bedtime  came  things  were  even  worse.  All 
the  time  he  was  undressing  he  was  aware  that  he  was 
the  subject  of  much  of  the  whispered  discussion  around 
him  and  the  hostile  glances  that  met  him  made  silence 
almost  impossible.  But  silent  he  was,  doing  his  best 
to  seem  unaware  of  what  the  others  were  thinking  and 
saying.  He  passed  down  the  dormitory  to  the  wash- 
room with  head  held  high  and  as  unconcerned  a  look 
as  he  could  manage,  but  he  was  heartily  thankful  when 
Mr.  Cobb  put  his  head  out  of  the  door  of  his  room  at 
the  end  of  the  dormitory,  announced  "Bed,  fellows," 
and  switched  off  the  electric  lights.  Roy  was  n  't  very 
happy  while  he  lay  awake  there  in  the  darkness  waiting 
for  sleep  to  come  to  him.  He  had  made  a  sorry  begin- 
ning of  school  life,  he  reflected  bitterly.  To  be  sure, 
he  might  deny  that  he  had  told  on  Burlen  and  his  com- 
panions, but  what  good  would  it  do  when  every  fellow 
believed  as  they  did?  No,  the  only  way  was  to  brave 
it  out  and  in  time  win  back  the  fellows'  respect.  But 
how  he  hated  Horace  Burlen !  Some  day,  how  or  when 
he  did  not  know,  he  would  get  even  with  Burlen  !    Mean- 


40  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

while  sleep  came  to  him  after  a  while  and  he  fell  into 
troubled  dreams. 

The  next  day  his  cup  of  bitterness  was  filled  yet  fuller. 
Harry  cut  him !  He  met  her  on  the  way  across  the 
campus  at  noon.  She  was  immaculately  tidy  in  a  blue 
skirt  and  a  fresh  white  shirt-waist  and  her  red  hair 
fell  in  a  neat  braid  at  her  back.  She  carried  a  bundle 
of  books  under  her  arm  and  Snip,  the  fox  terrier,  ran 
beside  her.  Roy  nodded  with  a  friendly  smile,  but  his 
only  reward  was  an  unseeing  glance  from  the  blue  eyes. 
The  color  flamed  into  Roy's  face  and  he  hurried  on  with 
bent  head.  I  think  Harry  regretted  her  action  the  next 
instant,  for  when  he  had  passed  she  turned  and  looked 
after  him  with  a  little  wistful  frown  on  her  face. 

On  the  football  field  life  was  n  't  much  pleasanter  than 
in  hall.  Roy  had  already  worked  himself  into  the  posi- 
tion of  first  substitute  quarter-back,  and  Bacon,  the  last 
year's  quarter,  was  looking  anxious  and  buckling  down 
to  work  in  a  way  that  showed  he  was  not  over-confident 
of  holding  his  place.  But  when  the  men  before  and 
behind  you  had  rather  make  you  look  ridiculous  than 
play  the  game  you  are  in  a  hard  way.  And  that  was 
Roy's  fix.  Whitcomb,  who  was  playing  center  in  Bur- 
len's  absence,  was  inclined  to  treat  Roy  rather  decently, 
but  there  were  others  in  the  squad  who  never  let  slip 
an  opportunity  to  worry  him.  The  way  his  signals  were 
misunderstood  was  extraordinary.  Not  that  it  mattered 
so  much  these  days,  since  practice  was  in  its  most  primi- 
tive stage,  but  after  three  afternoons  of  such  treatment 


ROY  CHANGES  HIS  MIND  41 

Roy  was  ready  to  give  up  the  fight.  After  practice  on 
Saturday  he  waited  for  Jack  Rogers  outside  the  gym- 
nasium and  ranged  himself  alongside  the  older  boy  as 
he  turned  toward  the  dormitory.  Jack  shot  a  quick 
glance  at  him  and  nodded. 

"I  thought  I  'd  better  tell  you,"  began  Roy,  ''that 
I  've  decided  to  give  up  football." 

"Think  so?"  asked  the  captain  dryly. 

"Yes,"  replied  Roy,  looking  a  little  bit  surprised. 
There  was  nothing  further  from  the  other  and  Roy 
strode  on  at  his  side,  trying  to  match  his  long  stride  and 
somewhat  embarrassedly  striving  to  think  of  what  to 
say  next. 

"You  see,"  he  said  finally,  "there  's  no  use  in  my 
trying  to  play  quarter  while  the  fellows  are  down 
on  me.  It  's  just  a  waste  of  time.  I — I  don't  seem  to 
be  able  to  get  things  right." 

What  he  meant  was  that  the  others  were  doing  their 
best  to  get  things  wrong,  but  he  did  n't  want  to  seem  to 
be  complaining  of  them  to  Rogers.  The  latter  turned 
and  observed  Roy  thoughtfully. 

"That  your  only  reason?"  he  asked. 

"Yes." 

"Well,  let  's  stop  here  a  minute  if  you  've  got  time." 
The  two  seated  themselves  on  a  wooden  bench  under  the 
trees  a  few  yards  from  the  entrance  to  the  dormitory. 
"You  're  new  here,"  continued  Jack,  "and  there  are 
some  things  you  don't  know.  One  of  the  things  is  this: 
we  've  got  to  win  from  Hammond  this  Fall  if  we  have 


42  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

to  work  every  minute  between  now  and  the  day  of  the 
game.  They  beat  us  last  year  and  they  did  n't  do  it 
very  squarely.  That  is,  they  played  a  great  big  fellow 
named  Richardson  at  right  guard  who  had  no  business 
on  their  team.  We  protested  him,  but  it  did  no 
good.  He  was  a  student  of  the  academy  at  the 
time,  and  although  we  knew  he  was  there  just  to  play 
football,  we  could  n't  do  anything  beyond  making  the 
protest.  As  it  turned  out  we  were  right,  for  Richardson 
left  Hammond  a  week  after  the  game,  and  this  year 
he  's  playing  on  a  college  team.  He  was  a  big  fellow, 
twenty  years  old,  weighed  two  hundred  pounds  and 
simply  played  all  around  our  men.  He  used  up  two 
of  them  before  the  game  was  over.  He  played  mighty 
dirty  ball,  too.  Our  captain  last  year  was  Johnny 
King — he  's  playing  with  Cornell  this  year — and  he  was 
plucky  clean  through.  The  whole  school  was  in  favor 
of  refusing  to  play  Hammond,  and  Cobb  was  with  us. 
But  King  said  he  'd  play  them  if  they  had  the  whole 
Yale  varsity  to  pick  from.  When  we  went  out  for  the  sec- 
ond half  with  the  score  eleven  to  nothing  against  us  he  said 
to  me:  'Jack,  you  '11  be  captain  next  year,  and  I  want 
you  to  remember  to-day's  game.  Get  a  team  together 
that  will  lick  Hammond.  Work  for  it  all  the  Fall. 
Never  mind  what  other  teams  do  to  you ;  keep  Hammond 
in  mind  every  minute.  Lose  every  other  game  on  the 
schedule  if  you  have  to,  but  beat  Hammond,  Jack !  I  '11 
do  all  I  can  to  get  coaches  for  you,  and  I  '11  come  down 
myself  for  a  day  or  two  if  I  can  possibly  manage  it. 


EOY  CHANGES  SIS  MIND  13 

"What  do  you  say?'  I  said  'All  right,  Johnnie,'  and 
we  shook  hands  on  it.  Hammond  scored  again  in  that 
half,  and  after  it  was  over  we  had  to  carry  Johnnie 
back  to  the  gym.    Well?" 

He  stopped  and  looked  inquiringly  at  Roy. 

' '  I  guess  I  '11  go  ahead  and  play, ' '  answered  Roy. 

"That  's  better.  You  're  one  of  us  now,  and  that 
means  that  you  've  got  to  work  yourself  blue  in  the  face 
if  necessary  to  make  up  for  what  Hammond  did  to 
us  last  Fall.  I  can't  promise  you  that  you  '11  get  into 
the  game,  although  I  don't  see  why  you  shouldn't,  but 
even  if  you  don't,  even  if  you  stay  on  the  second  all  sea- 
son you  '11  be  doing  just  as  much  toward  winning  the 
game  as  any  of  us — if  you  '11  do  your  best  and  a  little 
more.  And  it  mustn't  make  any  difference  to  you  how 
the  fellows  treat  you  or  what  they  say.  You  're  there 
to  play  football  and  run  your  team.  Of  course,  what 
takes  place  between  you  and  the  others  is  none  of  my 
business  and  I  shan't  step  in  to  help  you,  not  once;  but 
just  as  soon  as  I  find  that  they  are  risking  the  success 
of  the  eleven  you  can  count  on  me  to  back  you  up.  I 
won't  stand  any  nonsense  from  them,  and  they  know 
it;  or  if  they  don't  know  it  now  they  mighty  soon  will. 
They  say  you  gave  away  the  fellows  who  hazed  you  the 
other  night.  I  don't  know  whether  you  did  or  didn't, 
and  I  don't  want  you  to  tell  me.  I  don't  care.  You 
can  play  football,  and  that  's  enough  for  me.  I 
wouldn't  care  this  year  if  you  had  stolen  the  cupola 
of  School  Hall.     I  have  nothing  to  do  with  what  you 


44  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE 

are  off  the  football  field.  If  you  '11  do  your  honest  best 
there  I  '11  stick  to  you  as  long  as  you  live.    Will  you?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Roy. 

' '  Good  !    Shake  hands !    Now  let  's  go  on. ' ' 

"About  that  hazing  affair,  though,"  said  Roy  as 
they  left  the  seat.    "I  'd  like  to  tell  you—" 

"I  don't  want  to  be  told,"  answered  Jack  curtly. 
"If  you  told  on  Burlen  and  the  others  maybe  you  had 
reason,  and  if  you  're  a  decent  sort  of  a  chap  they  '11 
get  over  it  in  time.  If  you  didn't  you  've  got  nothing 
to  worry  about.  If  a  chap  plays  fair  and  square  fellows 
pretty  soon  know  it.    See  you  at  supper.    So  long." 

Jack  turned  down  the  path  toward  the  Cottage  and 
Roy  ran  up  the  steps  of  Burgess  Hall  with  a  lighter 
heart  than  he  had  had  for  several  days. 


CHAPTER  V 

CHUB   EATON   INTRODUCES   HIMSELF 

ROY  had  stayed  to  speak  to  Mr.  Buckman  after  the 
geometry  class  had  been  dismissed,  and  so,  when 
he  reached  the  entrance  of  the  hall  on  his  way  out,  he 
found  the  broad  granite  steps  well  lined  with  boys. 
Nearly  a  week  had  passed  since  the  hazing  episode  and 
the  beginning  of  the  present  ostracism,  and  during  that 
period  Roy  had  become,  if  not  used  to  it,  at  least  in  a 
measure  inured.  The  smaller  boys— the  Juniors — were 
the  worst,  and  they,  Roy  felt  certain,  were  being  con- 
stantly egged  on  by  Horace  Burlen  and  his  chums,  of 
whom  Otto  Ferris  was  apparently  the  closest.  Horace 
himself  refrained  from  active  animosity.  When  he  met 
Roy  he  pretended  to  consider  the  latter  beneath  notice 
and  did  no  more  than  sneer  as  he  turned  his  head  away. 
But  Otto  never  allowed  an  opportunity  to  be  mean  to 
escape  him.  And  to-day,  an  opportunity  presenting 
itself,  he  seized  upon  it. 

Roy,  looking  straight  ahead,  passed  down  the  steps, 
trying  hard  to  forget  that  well  nigh  every  eye  was  fixed 
upon  him.  He  had  reached  the  last  step  but  one  and 
the  ordeal  was  almost  over  when  Otto  saw  his  chance. 
The  next  instant  Roy  had  measured  his  length  on  the 

45 


46  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

gravel  path  below  and  his  books  and  papers  lay  scattered 
about  him.  He  scrambled  to  his  feet  with  blazing  cheeks 
and  eyes  and  strode  toward  Otto.  The  latter,  too,  got 
to  his  feet,  but  showed  no  overmastering  desire  to  meet 
the  other.  Instead  he  retreated  a  step  and  began  to  look 
anxious. 

"You  tripped  me  up,"  charged  Roy  angrily. 

"Who  tripped  you  up?"  asked  Otto.  "You  fell  over 
my  foot.    You  ought  to  look  where  you  're  going." 

Some  of  the  older  boys,  their  sympathies  aroused  by 
Roy's  fall,  moved  between  the  two.  The  youngsters  gave 
vocal  support  to  Otto  until  commanded  to  "cut  it  out." 
Roy  attempted  to  push  by  one  of  the  boys,  but  was 
restrained. 

"Run  along,  Porter,"  counselled  the  peace-maker. 
"It  was  a  shabby  trick,  but  you  won't  do  any  good  by 
scrapping." 

"Supposing  you  keep  out  of  it,"  suggested  Roy  an- 
grily. 

"Now  don't  you  get  fresh,"  answered  the  other 
warmly.  "You  can't  scrap  here,  so  run  along  as  I  told 
you.    I  dare  say  you  only  got  what  was  coming  to  you. ' ' 

"He  deserved  it,  the  sneak!"  cried  Otto,  who,  divided 
from  the  enemy  by  strong  defences,  had  recovered  his 
bravery.  Roy  heard  and  threw  discretion  to  the  winds. 
He  ducked  under  the  arm  of  the  boy  in  front  of  him 
and  had  almost  reached  Otto  when  he  was  caught  and 
dragged  back.     Otto,  standing  his  ground  because  he 


CHUB  EATON  INTRODUCES  HIMSELF  47 

aould  not  retreat,  looked  vastly  relieved.  Roy  struggled 
in  the  grasp  of  his  captors. 

' ' You  let  me  go ! "  he  cried.  "It  's  none  of  your 
affair.  Why  don't  you  let  him  look  after  himself,  you 
bullies?" 

"That  '11  do  for  you,  freshie,"  responded  one  of  the 
older  boys  named  Fernald.  "Don't  you  call  names  or 
you  '11  get  in  trouble." 

'  •  You  'd  better  do  as  he  says, ' '  counselled  a  quiet  voice 
at  Roy 's  side.  ' '  There  would  n  't  be  any  satisfaction  in 
licking  Ferris,  anyway ;  he  's  just  a  coward.  Come  along 
and  pick  up  your  books." 

There  was  something  quietly  compelling  in  the  voice, 
and  Roy,  ceasing  to  struggle,  looked  about  panting  into 
the  round,  good-humored  face  of  a  boy  of  about  his 
own  age. 

"Come  on,"  said  the  boy  softly.    And  Roy  went. 

Together  they  rescued  the  scattered  books  and  papers, 
while  on  the  steps  discussion  broke  out  stormily;  Otto 
was  being  "called  down"  by  the  older  boys  and  volubly 
defended  by  the  youngsters. 

When  the  books  were  once  more  under  his  arms  Roy 
thanked  his  new  friend  and,  without  a  glance  toward 
the  group  on  the  steps,  turned  toward  the  dormitory. 
When  he  had  gone  a  few  steps  he  became  aware  of  the 
fact  that  the  round-faced  boy  was  beside  him  and  looked 
about  in  surprise. 

"I  'm  going  your  way,"   said  the  other  smilingly. 


48  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATEE 

"Going  to  get  my  sweater  on  and  go  out  in  the  canoe 
awhile.    Do  you  paddle?" 

"No,  I  never  tried  it,"  answered  Roy,  rubbing  the 
blood  from  his  knuckles  where  they  had  been  scraped  on 
the  gravel  and  shooting  a  puzzled  glance  at  the  other. 

"Well,  never  too  late  to  learn,"  responded  his  com- 
panion cheerfully.  "Come  along  down  and  take  a 
lesson.    It  's  a  dandy  day  for  a  paddle." 

"Thanks,  but  I  've  got  to  study  a  bit." 

' '  Oh,  leave  that  until  to-night.    No  practice,  is  there  ?" 

"No,  most  of  the  fellows  went  to  Maitland  with  the 
first  eleven." 

"Maitland  will  beat  us,  probably.  We  always  lose 
the  first  two  or  three  games.  Why  did  n't  they  take 
you  along?" 

"Did  n't  need  me,  I  guess.  Bacon  is  the  regular 
quarter,  you  know." 

"Yes,  but  I  don't  see  why  they  need  to  play  him 
all  through  the  first  game.  Well,  here  we  are.  Get  a 
sweater  or  something  on  and  meet  me  down  here." 

They  had  paused  on  the  landing  outside  the  Junior 
Dormitory  and  Roy  hesitated.    Then, 

"You  live  here,  do  you?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  I  have  a  corner  bed  by  the  window,  and  last 
year,  when  they  wanted  to  put  me  upstairs,  I  kicked. 
So  they  let  me  stay;  told  me  I  could  be  useful  keeping 
an  eye  on  the  kids.    You  '11  come,  eh  ? " 

"Well,  I— I  guess  so.    It  's  good  of  you  to  ask  me." 


CHUB  EATON  INTRODUCES  HIMSELF  49 

"Not  a  bit.    I  hate  to  go  alone;  that  's  all." 

He  turned  smilingly  into  the  dormitory  and  Roy  went 
on  upstairs,  got  rid  of  his  books  and  scrambled  into 
his  red  sweater.  It  was  n  't  necessary  to  pass  School  Hall 
on  the  way  down  to  the  river,  and  Roy  was  glad  of  it. 
He  felt  that  in  losing  his  temper  and  slanging  the  older 
fellows  on  the  steps  he  had  also  lost  ground.  Instead 
of  making  friends  he  had  possibly  made  one  or  two  new 
enemies.  Then  the  realization  that  the  boy  beside  him 
was  showing  himself  more  of  a  friend  than  any  other 
fellow  in  school,  with  the  possible  exception  of  Jack 
Rogers,  brought  comfort,  and,  in  a  sudden  flush  of 
gratitude,  he  turned  and  blurted: 

' '  It  was  mighty  nice  of  you  to  take  my  part  and  I  'm 
awfully  much  obliged." 

' '  Shucks,  that  was  n  't  anything !  I  'm  always  for  the 
under  dog,  anyhow — if  you  don't  mind  being  called  a 
dog." 

' '  No, ' '  answered  Roy.  Then  he  added  a  trifle  bitterly, 
' '  I  guess  some  of  them  call  me  worse  than  that. ' ' 

"Oh,  they  '11  get  over  it,"  was  the  cheerful  reply. 
"Just  you  pay  no  attention  to  'em,  mind  your  own 
affairs  and  look  as  though  you  didn't  give  a  rap." 

"That  's  what  Laurence  said,"  replied  Roy  thought- 
fully. 

"Sensible  chap,  Laurence,"  said  the  other  smilingly. 
"Who  might  he  be?" 

"My  brother.    He  's  in  Harvard." 


50  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

Oh,  yes,  I  remember  some  one  said  your  brother  was 
'Larry'  Porter,  the  Harvard  football  man.  I  guess 
that  's  how  you  happen  to  put  up  such  a  dandy  game 
yourself,  eh?" 

"I  don't  think  I  've  done  very  well,"  answered  Roy. 
"But— it  hasn't  been  all  my  fault." 

"Nonsense!  You  've  played  like  an  old  stager;  every 
fellow  says  that." 

"Really?"  asked  Roy  eagerly. 

"Of  course!  I  've  heard  lots  of  the  fellows  say  that 
Bacon  will  have  to  do  better  than  he  ever  has  done  to 
keep  his  place.  And  I  know  what  you  mean  about  its 
not  being  all  your  fault.  But  I  guess  the  chaps  on  your 
squad  will  behave  themselves  after  the  dressing  down 
Jack  gave  them  the  other  day." 

"Were  you  there?" 

"No,  I  don't  very  often  watch  practice.  I  don't  care 
much  for  football,  I  'm  afraid.  Baseball  's  my  game. 
No,  I  was  n  't  there,  but  Sid  Welch  was  telling  me  about 
it.    Sid  's  a  very  communicative  kid. ' ' 

"He  's  trying  to  make  the  team,"  said  Roy,  smiling. 
"He  asked  me  one  day  if  drinking  vinegar  would  make 
him  thinner." 

"He  's  a  funny  little  chump,"  laughed  the  other. 
"Not  a  bad  sort,  either.  He  has  the  bed  next  to  mine, 
and  he  and  I  are  pretty  good  chums.  By  the  way, 
you  did  n  't  tell  me  what  it  was  your  brother  said. ' ' 

"Oh,  why,  he  said  once  that  if  I  wanted  to  get  on  I 
must  keep  a  stiff  upper  lip  and  mind  my  own  affairs. 


CHUB  EATON  INTRODUCES  HIMSELF  51 

And— and  he  said  'when  you  're  down  on  your  luck  or 
up  against  a  bigger  fellow  grin  as  hard  as  you  can 
grin.'  " 

' '  Good  for  him ! ' '  cried  the  other.  ' '  I  'd  like  to  meet 
him.  That  's  what  I  say,  too.  No  use  in  looking  glum 
because  you  're  put  out  at  the  plate.  Just  smile  and 
keep  your  mouth  shut,  and  likely  as  not  you  '11  make 
good  the  next  time.  Besides,  if  the  other  chap  sees  you 
looking  worried  it  makes  him  feel  bigger  and  better. 
Yes,  that  's  good  advice,  all  right.  By  the  way,  I  know 
your  name,  but  I  guess  you  don 't  know  mine ;  it  's  Chub 
Eaton." 

' '  Are  you  a  Senior  ? ' ' 

"Same  as  you,  Second  Senior.  Of  course,  I  wasn't 
christened  Chub ;  my  real  name  's  Tom ;  but  the  fellows 
began  calling  me  Chub  the  first  year  I  was  here  because 
I  was  kind  of  fat  then,  and  I  did  n't  mind.  So  it  stuck. 
Well,  here  's  the  canoe.  Just  give  me  a  hand,  will  you  ? 
We  '11  put  her  over  the  end  of  the  float." 

The  boat  house  was  deserted,  but  out  in  mid-stream 
was  a  pair-oar  and  a  rowboat,  the  latter  well  filled.  Roy 
helped  in  the  launching  and  soon  they  were  afloat. 

"It  's  an  awful  handsome  canoe,  is  n't  it?"  asked 
Roy. 

"Pretty  fair.  I  thought  the  color  would  fetch  you; 
it  's  just  a  match  for  your  sweater.  Got  the  paddle? 
Well,  try  your  hand  at  it.  Just  stick  it  in  and  push  it 
back.  You  '11  get  the  hang  after  a  bit.  We  '11  get  out 
around  the  island  so  as  to  catch  the  breeze.  I  hate 
calm  water." 


52  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

It  was  a  glorious  afternoon.  September  was  drawing 
to  a  close  and  there  was  already  a  taste  of  October  iK 
the  fresh  breeze  that  raffled  the  water  as  soon  as  they 
had  swung  the  crimson  craft  around  the  lower  end  of 
Fox  Island.  Toward  the  latter  the  owner  of  the  craft 
waved  his  paddle. 

"That  's  where  we  have  fun  April  recess,"  he  said. 
"'If  you  know  what  's  good  you  '11  stay  here  instead  of 
going  home.  We  camp  out  there  for  almost  a  week  and 
have  more  fun  than  you  can  shake  a  stick  at.  Hammond 
usually  comes  over  and  tries  to  swipe  our  boats,  and  two 
years  ago  we  had  a  regular  battle  with  them.  Take  it 
easier,  or  you  '11  get  sore  muscles.     That  's  better." 

Roy  obeyed  directions  and  soon  discovered  that  pad- 
dling if  done  the  right  way  is  good  fun.  Before  the 
Autumn  was  gone  he  had  attained  to  quite  a  degree  of 
proficiency  and  was  never  happier  than  when  out  in 
the  canoe.  But  to-day  his  muscles,  in  spite  of  training, 
soon  began  to  ache,  and  he  was  glad  when  the  boy  at 
the  stern  suggested  that  they  let  the  craft  drift  for 
a  while.  Presently,  Roy  having  turned  around  very 
cautiously,  they  were  taking  their  ease  in  the  bottom 
of  the  canoe,  the  water  lap-lapping  against  the  smooth 
crimson  sides,  the  sunlight  slanting  across  the  glinting 
ripples  and  the  cool  down-river  breeze  making  the  shelter 
of  the  boat  quite  grateful.  They  talked  of  all  sorts  of 
things,  as  boys  will  at  first  meeting,  and  as  they  talked 
Roy  had  his  first  good  chance  to  look  his  newly-found 
friend  over. 


CHUB  EATON  INTRODUCES  HIMSELF  53 

Chub  Eaton  was  sixteen,  although  he  looked  fully 
a  year  older.  He  was  somewhat  thick-set,  but  not  so 
much  so  that  he  was  either  slow  or  awkward.  He  was 
undeniably  good-looking,  with  a  good-humored  face, 
from  which  a  pair  of  bright,  alert  brown  eyes  sparkled. 
His  hair  was  brown,  too,  a  brown  that  just  escaped 
being  red,  but  which  did  not  in  the  least  remind  Roy 
of  Harry 's  vivid  tresses.  Chub  looked  to  be  in  the  fittest 
physical  condition  and  the  coat  of  tan  that  covered  his 
face  and  hands  made  Roy  seem  almost  pale  in  com- 
parison. Chub  had  an  easy,  self-assured  way  of  doing 
things  that  Roy  could  n't  help  admiring,  and  was  a 
born  leader.  These  same  qualities  were  possessed  by 
Roy  to  a  lesser  extent,  and  that,  as  the  friendship  grew 
and  ripened  between  the  two,  they  never  had  a  falling- 
out  worthy  of  the  name,  proves  that  each  must 
have  had  a  well-developed  sense  of  fairness  and  gener- 
osity. As  I  have  said,  their  conversation  touched  on  all 
sorts  of  subjects,  and  finally  it  got  around  to  Horace 
Burlen. 

"Horace  has  the  whole  school  under  his  thumb," 
explained  Chub.  "You  see,  in  the  first  place  he  is 
Emmy's  nephew,  and  the  fellows  have  an  idea  that  that 
makes  a  difference  with  Emmy.  I  don't  believe  it  does, 
for  Emmy's  mighty  fair;  and  besides,  I  've  seen  him 
wade  into  Horace  good  and  hard.  But  he  's  school 
leader,  all  right.  The  Juniors  do  just  about  whatever 
he  tells  'em  to  and  are  scared  to  death  for  fear  he  wilL 
eat   'em  up.     It  's  awfully  funny,  the  way  he  bosses 


54  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

things.  I  don't  believe  there  are  half  a  dozen  fellows 
in  school  who  would  n  't  jump  into  the  river  if  Horace 
told  them  to.  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  you  know,  he  is  n  't 
the  best  fellow  in  the  world  to  be  leader." 

"How  about  you?"  asked  Roy.  "You  're  not  one  of 
his  slaves,  are  you?" 

"Me?  Bless  you,  no!  Horace  and  I  had  our  little 
scrap  two  years  ago  and  since  then  he  has  given  me  up 
for  lost.  Same  way  with  Jack  Rogers.  Jack  's  the 
only  chap  that  can  make  Horace  stand  around.  Jack 
could  have  taken  the  lead  himself  if  he  'd  wanted  to, 
but  the  only  thing  he  thinks  of  is  football.  Horace 
hates  him  like  poison,  but  he  makes  believe  he  likes  him. 
You  see,  Horace  was  up  for  captain  this  year  and  would 
have  got  it,  too,  if  Johnny  King  had  n  't  made  a  lot  of 
the  team  promise  last  Fall  to  vote  for  Jack.  It  wasn't 
exactly  fair,  I  guess,  but  Johnny  knew  that  Horace 
would  never  do  for  football  captain.  So  that  's  the 
reason  Horace  has  it  in  for  him." 

' '  Well,  he  will  never  get  me  to  lick  his  boots  for  him, ' ' 
said  Roy  decisively. 

Chub  looked  at  him  smilingly  a  moment.     Then, 

"No,  I  don't  believe  he  will.  But  you  '11  have  a  hard 
row  to  hoe  for  a  while,  for  Horace  can  make  it  mighty 
unpleasant  for  a  chap  if  he  wants  to." 

"He  's  done  it  already,"  answered  Roy. 

"Oh,  that  's  nothing,"  was  the  cheerful  reply. 
"Wait  till  he  gets  to  going.  He  can  be  mighty  nasty 
when  he  tries.    And  he  can  be  fairly  decent,  too.     He 


CHUB  EATON  INTRODUCES  HIMSELF  55 

is  n  't  a  coward  like  Otto  Ferris,  you  see ;  he  's  got  a  lot 
of  good  stuff  in  him,  only  it  does  n  't  very  often  get  out. ' ' 

"He  's  a  Second  Senior,  is n 't  he ? " 

"Yes,  he  's  been  here  six  years  already,  too.  He  isn't 
much  on  study,  and  Emmy  gets  ripping  mad  with  him 
sometimes.  Two  years  ago  he  didn't  pass  and  Emmy 
told  him  he  'd  keep  him  in  the  Second  Middle  for  six 
years  if  he  didn't  do  better  work.  So  Horace  buckled 
down  that  time  and  moved  up.  Well,  say,  we  paddle 
back.  You  stay  where  you  are  if  you  're  tired;  I  can 
make  it  against  this  little  old  tide  all  right." 

But  Roy  declared  he  was  n't  tired  and  took  up  his 
paddle  again.  As  they  neared  the  school  landing  the 
rowboat  came  drifting  down  from  the  end  of  the  island, 
the  half  dozen  lads  inside  of  it  shouting  and  laughing 
loudly.     Suddenly  Roy  started  to  his  feet. 

' '  Sit  down ! ' '  cried  Chub  sharply. 

Roy  sat  down,  not  so  much  on  account  of  the  com 
mand  as  because  he  had  started  the  canoe  to  rocking, 
and  it  was  a  choice  between  doing  that  and  falling  into 
the  river. 

' '  Their  boat  's  upset ! "  he  cried  back. 

"  So  I  see, ' '  answered  Chub.  ' '  But  it  is  n  't  necessary 
to  upset  this  one,  too.  Besides,  they  can  all  swim  like 
fishes." 

Nevertheless  he  bent  to  his  paddle  and,  with  Roy 
making  ineffectual  efforts  to  help  him,  fairly  shot  the 
craft  over  the  water.  But  long  before  they  had  neared 
the  overturned  boat  it  became  evident  that  their  aid 


56  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

was  not  required,  for  the  boys  in  the  water,  laughing 
over  their  mishap,  were  swimming  toward  the  beach 
and  pushing  the  capsized  boat  before  them.  Chub 
headed  the  canoe  toward  the  landing. 

"You  see,"  he  explained,  "no  fellow  is  allowed  to 
get  into  a  boat  here  until  he  can  swim,  and  so,  barring 
a  swift  current,  there  isn't  much  danger.  That  's  Sid 
in  front.  He  's  a  regular  fish  in  the  water  and  it  's 
even  money  that  he  upset  the  thing  on  purpose.  He  'd 
better  not  let  Emmy  know  about  it,  though.  By  the 
way,  how  about  you?  Can  you  swim?  I  forgot  to 
ask  you." 

"Yes,  I  can  swim  pretty  fair,"  answered  Roy. 

"All  right.  I  took  it  for  granted  you  could.  You 
look  like  a  chap  that  can  do  things.  Do  you  play  base- 
ball?" 

"No;  that  is,  I  've  never  played  on  a  team.  Of 
course,  I  can  catch  a  ball  if  it  's  coming  my  way." 

"Good!  Why  not  come  out  for  the  nine  in  the 
spring  ?    Will  you  ? ' ' 

"I  don't  believe  there  'd  be  much  use  in  it,"  said  Roy. 
"I  know  so  little  about  the  game." 

"That  's  all  right.  You  could  learn.  Half  the  fel- 
lows who  try  have  never  played  before.  And  I  know 
you  can  start  quick  and  run  like  a  streak.  I  saw  you 
make  that  touchdown  day  before  yesterday.  You  'd 
better  try. ' ' 

"Well,"  answered  Roy,  as  they  lifted  the  canoe  from 
the  water  and  bore  it  into  the  boat  house,  "maybe  J 


CHUB  EATON  INTEODUCES  HIMSELF  57 

will.  Only  I  don't  think  the  captain  would  be  very 
glad  to  see  me." 

"Don't  you  worry  about  the  captain,"  laughed  Chub. 
"He  's  too  glad  to  get  material  to  be  fussy." 

"Who  is  captain?"  asked  Roy. 

"I  am,"  said  Chub.  "That 's  how  I  know  so  much 
about  him!" 


CHAPTER  VI 

METHUSELAH    HAS   A   SORE   THROAT 

FOOTBALL  practice  was  hard  and  steady  the  next 
week,  for  Maitland  had  trounced  Ferry  Hill  17 
to  0,  and  as  Maitland  was  only  a  high  school,  albeit  a 
rather  large  one,  the  disgrace  rankled.  Jack  Rogers 
was  n't  the  sort  of  chap  to  wear  his  heart  on  his  sleeve, 
and  so  far  as  his  countenance  went  none  would  have 
guessed  him  to  be  badly  discouraged.  But  he  was,  and 
Roy,  for  one,  knew  it.  And  I  think  Jack  knew  that  he 
knew  it,  for  once  in  a  lull  of  the  signal  practice  he 
looked  up  to  find  Roy's  eyes  on  him  sympathetically, 
and  he  smiled  back  with  a  dubious  shake  of  his  head 
that  spoke  volumes.  Things  were  n  't  going  very  well, 
and  that  was  a  fact.  The  loss  of  Horace  Burlen  during 
that  first  month  of  practice  meant  a  good  deal,  for 
Horace  was  a  steady  center  and  an  experienced  one.  To 
a  lesser  extent  the  absence  of  Pryor  and  Warren, 
Horace's  friends  in  exile,  retarded  the  development  of 
the  team.  By  the  end  of  the  second  week  of  practice  a 
provisional  eleven  had  been  formed,  for  Mr.  Cobb  be- 
lieved in  getting  the  men  together  as  soon  as  possible, 
having  learned  from  experience  that  team  work  is  not 

58 


METHUSELAH  HAS  A  SOKE  THROAT  59 

a  thing  that  can  be  instilled  in  a  mere  week  or  two  of 
practice.  Whitcomb  was  playing  center  on  the  first 
squad  in  Horace's  absence.  Roy  was  at  quarter  on  the 
second,  with  a  slow-moving  young  giant  named  Forrest 
in  front  of  him.  But  Forrest  was  good-natured  as  well 
as  slow,  and  in  consequence  he  and  Roy  got  on  very 
well,  although  they  never  exchanged  unnecessary  re- 
marks. The  back  field  had  learned  that  Jack  Rogers 
would  not  stand  any  nonsense,  and  if  they  had  any  de- 
sire to  make  things  uncomfortable  for  the  quarter-back 
they  did  n  't  indulge  it  on  the  football  field.  The  second 
stood  up  very  well  in  those  days  before  the  first,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  sometimes  there  were  n  't  enough 
candidates  to  fill  the  places  of  injured  players.  With 
only  forty-odd  fellows  to  draw  from  it  was  remarkable 
that  Ferry  Hill  turned  out  the  teams  that  it  did. 

Meanwhile  life  was  growing  easier  for  Roy.  Even 
the  younger  boys  had  begun  to  tire  of  showing  their 
contempt,  while  the  fact  that  Chub  Eaton  had  "taken 
up"  the  new  boy  went  a  long  way  with  the  school  in 
general.  Chub  was  not  popular  in  the  closest  sense  of 
the  word ;  he  was  far  too  indifferent  for  that ;  but  every 
fellow  who  knew  him  at  all  liked  him — with  the  possible 
exception  of  Horace — and  his  position  of  baseball  cap- 
tain made  him  a  person  of  importance.  Consequently, 
when  the  school  observed  that  Chub  had  selected  Roy 
for  a  friend  it  marvelled  for  a  few  days  and  then  began 
to  wonder  whether  there  might  not  be,  after  all,  extenu- 
ating   circumstances    in    the    new    boy's    favor.      And 


60  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

besides  this  Roy's  work  on  the  gridiron  had  been  from 
the  first  of  the  sort  to  command  respect  no  matter  how 
unwilling.  And  it  was  about  this  time  that  another 
friend  was  restored  to  him. 

Roy  had  come  across  Harry  but  once  or  twice  since 
she  had  passed  him  in  the  campus,  and  each  time  he  had 
been  very  careful  to  avoid  her.  But  one  morning  he 
ran  plump  into  her  in  the  corridor  of  School  Hall,  so 
plump,  in  fact,  that  he  knocked  the  book  she  was  carry- 
ing from  her  hand.  Of  course  there  was  nothing  to  do 
but  stoop  and  rescue  it  from  the  floor,  and  when  that 
was  done  it  was  too  late  to  escape.  As  he  handed  the 
book  back  to  her  he  looked  defiantly  into  the  blue  eyes 
and  said,  "Good  morning,  Miss  Harriet."  Strange  to 
say,  he  was  not  immediately  annihilated.  Instead  the 
blue  eyes  smiled  at  him  with  a  most  friendly  gleam,  and, 

"Good  morning,"  said  Harry.  Then,  "Only  I 
oughtn't  to  answer  you  for  calling  me  'Miss  Harriet'; 
you  know  I  hate  Harriet." 

"Excuse  me,  I  meant  Miss  Harry,"  answered  Roy  a 
trifle  stiffly.    It  was  hard  to  forget  that  cut  direct. 

' '  That  's  better, ' '  she  said.  ' '  You— you  have  n  't 
been  down  to  inquire  after  the  health  of  the  baby  since 
you  rescued  him." 

"No,  but  I  hope  he  's  all  right?" 

"Yes,  but  Methuselah  is  awfully  sick." 

"He  's  the  parrot,  is  n't  he?"  asked  Roy.  "What  'S 
wrong  with  the  old  sinner  ? ' ' 

"He   's  got  a  dreadful  sore  throat,"  was  the  reply. 


METHUSELAH  HAS  A  SORE  THROAT  61 

"I  've  tied  it  up  with  a  cloth  soaked  in  turpentine  half 
a  dozen  times,  but  he  just  won't  let  it  be." 

1 '  Are  you  sure  it  's  sore  throat  ? ' '  asked  Roy  gravely. 

''Yes,  his  voice  is  almost  gone.  Why,  he  can  scarcely 
talk  above  a  whisper ! ' ' 

Roy  thought  to  himself  that  that  was  n  't  such  a  catas- 
trophe as  Harry  intimated,  but  he  was  careful  not  to 
suggest  such  a  thing  to  her.  Instead  he  looked  properly 
regretful. 

"Don't  you  want  to  see  him?"  asked  Harry,  in  the 
manner  of  one  conferring  an  unusual  favor.  Roy  de- 
clared that  he  did  and  Harry  led  the  way  toward  the 
barn,  her  red  hair  radiant  in  the  morning  sunlight.  On 
the  way  they  passed  two  of  the  boys,  who  observed  them 
with  open-eyed  surprise.  Harry's  favor  was  not  easy 
to  win  and,  being  won,  something  to  prize,  since  she 
stood  near  the  throne  and  was  popularly  believed  to 
be  able  to  command  favors  for  her  friends. 

Methuselah  certainly  did  look  sick.  He  was  perched 
on  the  edge  of  his  soap  box  domicile,  viewing  the  world 
with  pessimistic  eyes,  when  Harry  conducted  the  visitor 
into  the  enclosure  and  sent  the  pigeons  whirling  into 
air.  Harry  went  to  him  and  stroked  his  head  with  her 
finger. 

"Poor  old  Thuselah,"  she  murmured.  "Did  he  have 
a  sore  throat?  Well,  it  was  a  nasty,  mean  shame.  But 
he  's  a  naughty  boy  for  scratching  off  the  bandage 
Harry  put  on.  What  have  you  done  with  it?  You 
haven't—"  she  looked  about  the  box  and  the  ground 


62  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

and  then  viewed  the  bird  sternly — "you  haven't  eaten 
it?" 

Methuselah  cocked  his  eyes  at  her  in  a  world-wearied 
way  that  seemed  to  say,  "Well,  what  if  I  have?  I 
might  as  well  die  one  way  as  another."  But  Roy  dis- 
covered the  bedraggled  length  of  linen  a  little  way  off 
und  restored  it  to  Harry. 

"I  'm  so  glad ! ' '  said  the  girl  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 
' '  I  did  n  't  know  but  he  might  have,  you  know.  Why, 
once  he  actually  ate  a  whole  ounce  of  turnip  seeds ! ' ' 

"Hurt  him?"  asked  Roy  interestedly. 

"N-no,  I  don't  believe  so,  but  I  was  awfully  afraid  it 
would.  John,  the  gardener,  said  he  'd  have  appendicitis. 
But  then,  John  was  mad  because  he  needed  the  seeds. ' ' 

Methuselah  had  closed  his  eyes  and  now  looked  as 
though  resolved  to  die  at  once  and  get  it  over  with.  But 
at  that  moment  Snip  trotted  out  from  the  barn,  where 
he  had  been  hunting  for  rats,  and  hailed  Roy  as  a  long- 
lost  friend.  Perhaps  the  incident  saved  the  bird's  life. 
At  least  it  caused  him  to  alter  his  mind  about  dying 
at  once,  for  he  blinked  his  eyes  open,  watched  the  per- 
formance for  a  moment  and  then  broke  out  in  a  hoarse 
croak  with: 

"Stop  your  swearing!  Stop  your  swearing!  Stop 
your  swearing !     Stop  your  swearing  ! ' ' 

It  was  such  a  pathetic  apology  for  a  voice  that  Roy 
had  to  laugh  even  at  the  risk  of  wounding  Harry's 
feelings.  But  Harry,  too,  found  it  amusing  and  joined 
her  laugh   with  his.     Whereupon  Methuselah  mocked 


METHUSELAH  HAS  A  SORE  THROAT  63 

them  sarcastically  in  tones  that  suggested  the  indelicacy 
of  laughing  at  a  dying  friend. 

"I  think/'  said  Harry,  "he  'd  like  you  to  scratch  his 
head." 

Roy  looked  doubtfully  at  the  bird  and  the  bird  looked 
suspiciously  at  Roy,  but  when  the  latter  had  summoned 
up  sufficient  courage  to  allow  of  the  experiment  Methu- 
selah closed  his  eyes  and  bent  his  head  in  evident 
appreciation  and  enjoyment. 

"T  don't  believe  you  're  nearly  so  sick  as  you  're  mak- 
ing out, ' '  said  Roy.    ' '  I  believe  you  're  an  old  bluffer. ' ' 

And  the  bird  actually  chuckled! 

Harry  doused  the  bandage  with  turpentine  again  and 
once  more  tied  it  around  Methuselah's  neck. 

"Now  don't  you  dare  scratch  it  off  again,"  she  com- 
manded severely,  shaking  her  finger  at  him. 

"Well,  I  never—"  began  the  bird.  But  weariness 
overcame  him  in  the  middle  of  the  sentence  and  he 
closed  his  beady  eyes  again  and  nodded  sleepily. 

' ' I  don't  believe  he  slept  very  well  last  night, ' '  confided 
Harry  in  a  whisper. 

' '  Maybe  he  was  cold, ' '  Roy  suggested. 

"I  've  thought  of  that.  I  don't  usually  move  them 
indoors  until  much  later,"  said  Harry  thoughtfully, 
"but  the  weather  is  so  cold  this  Fall  that  I  think  I  '11 
put  them  in  to-day.  Maybe  he  's  been  sleeping  in  a 
draft.  Mamma  says  that  will  almost  always  give  you 
a  sore  throat." 

They  walked  back  to  the  cottage  together  and  on  the 


64  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

way  Harry  was  unusually  quiet.  Finally,  when  Roy 
had  pleaded  a  recitation,  she  unburdened  her  mind  and 
conscience. 

"I— I  'm  sorry  about  the  other  day,"  she  said  sud- 
denly. 

Roy,  who  had  turned  away,  looked  around  in  surprise. 

' '  I  mean  when  I  did  n  't  speak  to  you  one  morning, ' ' 
explained  Harry  bravely.  Her  cheeks  were  furiously 
red  and  Roy  found  himself  sharing  her  embarrassment. 

"Oh,  that  's  all  right,"  he  muttered. 

"No,  it  is  n't  all  right,"  contradicted  Harry.  "It 
was  a  low-down  thing  to  do  and  I  was  sorry  right  away. 
Only  you  didn't  look  and  so — so  I — I  didn't  call  you. 
I— I  wish  you  had  looked.  It  was  all  Horace's  fault. 
He  said — said — " 

"Yes,  I  guess  I  know  what  he  said,"  interrupted 
Roy.    "But  supposing  what  he  said  is  so?" 

"I  wouldn't  care— much,"  was  the  answer.  "But 
I  know  it  isn't  so!    Is  it?" 

Roy  dropped  his  eyes  and  hesitated.    Then, 

"No,"  he  muttered.     "It  isn't  so,  Harry." 

"I  knew  it!"  she  cried  triumphantly.  "I  told  him 
I  knew  it  afterwards !  And  he  said  girls  were  n  't  proper 
persons  to  judge  of  such  things,  and  I  don't  see  what 
that  's  got  to  do  with  my  knowing— what  I  know,  do 
you?" 

Roy  had  to  acknowledge  that  he  didn't. 

"And  you  're  not  cross  with  me,  are  you?"  she  de- 
manded anxiously. 

"Not  a  bit,"  he  said. 


METHUSELAH  HAS  A  SORE  THROAT  65 

"That's  nice.  I  don't  like  folks  I  like  to  not  like— 
Oh,  dear  me !  I  'm  all  balled  up  !  Only  I  must  n  't  say 
'balled  up.'  I  meant  that  I  was — confused.  Anyway, 
I  'm  going  to  tell  all  the  boys  that  it  is  n't  so,  that  you 
didn't  squeal— I  mean  tell — on  Horace  and  the  others! 
And  I  think  it  was  a  nasty  trick  to  play  on  you !  Why, 
you  might  have  caught  your  death  of  cold ! ' ' 

"Or  a  sore  throat,  like  Methuselah,"  said  Roy,  smil- 
ing. 

"Or  you  might  have  been  drowned.  Once  there  was 
a  boy  drowned  here,  a  long,  long  time  ago,  when  I  was 
just  a  kid.  It  was  very  sad.  But  you  were  n't  drowned, 
were  you?  And  so  there  's  no  use  in  supposing,  is 
there?    But  I  'm  going  to  tell  the  boys  that—" 

"I  'd  rather  you  did  n't,  please,  Harry,"  broke  in 
Roy. 

Harry,  who  was  becoming  quite  enthusiastic  and  ex- 
cited, opened  her  eyes  very  wide. 

' '  Not  tell  ?  "  she  cried.     ' '  Why  not  ? " 

"Well,"  answered  Roy  hesitatingly,  "I— I  'd  rather 
you  did  n  't. " 

"No  reason!"  said  Harry  scornfully. 

"If  they  think  I  'd  do  such  a  thing,"  muttered  Roy, 
"they  can  just  keep  on  thinking  so.  I  guess  I  can 
stand  it." 

Harry  looked  puzzled  for  a  moment;  she  was  trying 
to  get  at  his  point  of  view ;  then  her  face  lighted. 

' '  Splendid ! ' '  she  cried.  ' '  You  're  going  to  be  a  martyr 
and  be  misunderstood  like — like  somebody  in  a  book  I  was 
reading!     And  some  day,  long  after  you  're  gone — " 


66  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

Harry  looked  vaguely  about  as  though  searching  for 
the  place  Roy  was  to  go  to — "folks  will  discover  that 
you  're  innocent  and  they  '11  be  very,  very  sorry  and 
erect  a  white  marble  shaft  to  your  cherished  memory ! ' ' 
She  ended  much  out  of  breath,  but  still  enthusiastic, 
to  find  Roy  laughing  at  her. 

"I  guess  I  'm  not  hankering  for  any  martyr  business, 
Harry.  It  is  n  't  that  exactly ;  I  don 't  know  just  what 
it  is.  But  if  you  won't  say  anything  about  it  I  '11  be 
awfully  much  obliged." 

"Well,  then,  I  won't,"  promised  Harry  regretfully. 
' '  Only  I  do  wish  you  were  going  to  be  a  martyr ! ' ' 

"I  shall  be  if  I  don't  hurry,"  answered  Roy.  "I 
have  math  with  Mr.  Buckman  in  about  half  a  minute." 

' '  Pooh !  No  one  's  afraid  of  Buck ! ' '  said  Harry 
scornfully.  ' '  Cobby  's  the  one  to  look  out  for ;  he  's 
awfully  strict."  Roy  was  already  making  for  School 
Hall.  "You  '11  come  and  see  Methuselah  again  soon, 
won't  you?" 

"Yes,"  called  Roy. 

"And  you  '11  play  tennis  with  me  some  day,  too?" 

"I  don't  play  very  well." 

"Never  mind,"  answered  Harry,  "I  '11  teach  you. 
Good  bye  J" 


CHAPTER  VII 

COACHES   AND   PLAYERS 

OCTOBER  went  its  way,  a  period  of  bright,  crisp, 
golden  weather  filled  with  hard  work  for  the  foot- 
ball players.  There  were  defeats  and  victories  both  in 
that  early  season,  but  on  the  whole  the  team  showed  up 
fairly  well.  Burlen  and  Warren  and  Pryor  returned  to 
practice  at  the  end  of  their  probation  and,  although  each 
was  more  or  less  stale,  their  presence  in  accustomed 
positions  heartened  the  team.  Otto  Ferris,  too,  returned, 
but  his  advent  was  not  portentous,  since  the  best  he  could 
do  was  to  make  the  second  as  a  substitute  back.  Bacon 
still  held  his  place  at  quarter,  although  in  two  games 
he  had  been  kept  out  of  the  play,  his  position  being  filled 
by  Roy.  The  latter  had  done  excellent  work,  but  he  had 
not  had  the  experience  gained  by  Bacon,  and  this, 
together  with  the  fact  that  he  and  Horace  did  not  work 
smoothly  together,  made  it  pretty  certain  that  Bacon 
would  go  into  the  game  with  Hammond.  Roy  was  not 
greatly  disappointed,  for  he  had  scarcely  dared  hope 
to  make  the  first  team  that  Fall.  Next  year  Bacon 
would  be  gone  from  school,  and  then,  barring  accidents, 
the  place  would  be  his.  Meanwhile,  ever  mindful  of  his 
promise  to  Jack  Rogers,  Roy  worked  like  a  Trojan  on 
the  second  and  ran  that  team  in  such  a  way  that  a  score 

67 


68  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

against  the  first  at  least  every  other  day  of  practice 
became  something  to  expect.  Had  Roy  been  able  to  work 
with  Horace  as  he  did  with  Forrest,  Bacon's  position 
would  not  have  been  so  secure.  Roy  was  like  a  streak  of 
lightning  when  he  once  got  away  for  a  run,  and,  like  a 
streak  of  lightning,  was  mighty  hard  to  catch.  At  this 
he  quite  outplayed  Bacon.  The  latter  seldom  managed 
to  make  his  quarter-back  runs  tell,  but  he  knew  his  men 
from  long  experience  and  used  them  like  a  general. 

Chub  Eaton,  inspired  by  his  friendship  for  Roy, 
became  a  regular  attendant  at  practice  and  even  travelled 
on  more  than  one  occasion  to  a  neighboring  town  with 
the  team.  Chub,  however,  did  n't  approve  of  Roy's 
presence  on  the  second. 

"It  's  all  poppycock,"  he  declared  warmly.  "You 
can  play  all  around  Bacon  and  I  don't  understand  why 
Cobb  and  Jack  don't  see  it.  You  're  too  easy-going,  Roy. 
You  ought  to  make  a  kick ;  tell  'em  you  want  what  's 
coming  to  you ;  make  'em  give  you  a  fair  try-out  on  the 
first.  I  tell  you,  my  young  friend,  you  don't  gain 
anything  in  this  world  by  being  over-modest.  Get  out 
and  flap  your  wings  and  crow  a  few  times  till  they  take 
notice  of  you  ! ' ' 

At  all  of  which  Roy  smiled  calmly. 

The  two  had  become  inseparable.  Whenever  it  was 
possible  they  were  together.  In  the  evening  they  sat  side 
by  side  in  the  study  room  and  afterwards  Roy  spent  his 
time  on  the  edge  of  Chub's  bed  in  the  Junior  Dormitory 
until  the  bell  rang.     There  were  many  stolen  hours  in 


COACHES  AND  PLAYERS  69 

the  canoe  and  always,  rain  or  shine,  Sunday  afternoon 
found  them  on  the  river,  floating  down  with  the  stream 
or  paddling  about  the  shorefe  engaged  in  wonderful 
explorations. 

Roy  had  recovered  from  his  first  nervousness  regarding 
studies  and  was  getting  on  fairly  well.  He  was  never 
likely  to  astonish  any  of  the  instructors  with  his  bril- 
liancy, but  what  he  once  learned  he  remembered  and 
he  was  conscientious  where  studies  were  concerned. 
His  mother  mentioned  the  scholarship  less  frequently 
nowadays  in  her  letters  and  his  father  asked  sarcastic- 
ally whether  they  taught  anything  besides  football  at 
Ferry  Hill,  but  was  secretly  very  proud  of  his  son's 
success  in  that  line. 

So  November  came  in  with  a  week  of  chill,  wet  days, 
days  when  outdoor  practice  meant  handling  a  slippery 
ball  and  rolling  about  in  puddles  of  water,  but  which  sent 
them  in  to  supper  with  outrageous  appetites. 

Green  Academy  came  and  saw  and  conquered,  Pottsville 
High  School  was  sent  home  beaten,  Cedar  Cove  School 
was  defeated  by  a  single  point — Jack  himself  kicked 
the  goal  that  did  it— and  lo,  the  schedule  was  almost 
at  an  end,  with  only  the  big  game  of  the  season,  that 
with  Hammond,  looming  up  portentously  ten  days  dis- 
tant! 

The  whole  school  was  football  mad.  Every  afternoon 
of  practice  saw  boys  and  instructors  on  the  field  either 
playing  or  watching ;  only  severe  illness  kept  a  Ferry  Hill 
student  away  from  the  field  those  days.     Every  after- 


70  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

noon  some  graduate  or  other  appeared  in  a  faded  brown 
sweater  and  after  watching  practice  awhile  suddenly 
darted  into  the  fracas  and  laid  down  the  law.  And 
there  were  long  and  earnest  consultations  afterwards 
between  the  grad  and  Jack  and  Mr.  Cobb,  and  fellows 
who  were  not  too  certain  of  their  places  trembled 
in  their  muddy  shoes.  And  there  were  changes,  too,  in 
the  line-up,  and  more  than  one  pair  of  muddy  shoes 
either  went  to  the  side-line  or  scuffled  about  with  the 
second.  But  only  one  of  the  changes  became  permanent ; 
for  Mir.  Cobb  had  selected  well.  Roy  never  forgot  the 
day  when  Johnny  King  made  his  appearance. 

It  was  just  a  week  to  a  day  before  the  Hammond  game. 
Roy  was  one  of  the  first  on  the  field  that  afternoon,  but 
Jack  and  Mr.  Cobb  were  ahead  of  him,  and  with  them 
was  a  big,  broad-shouldered  youth  in  his  shirt  sleeves. 
Roy  groaned  in  sympathy  with  the  first  team,  knowing 
from  experience  that  they  would  have  an  unpleasant 
time  of  it.  The  grad  had  the  look  of  a  chap  who  knew 
foot-ball,  knew  what  he  wanted  and  was  bound  to  have  it. 
Then  the  players  assembled,  went  through  a  few  minutes 
of  catching  and  punting  and  signal  line-up,  and  finally 
faced  each  other  in  two  eager,  determined  lines.  Mr. 
Cobb  blew  his  whistle  and  the  first  came  through  the 
second  for  a  yard  outside  of  left  tackle.  By  this  time 
Roy  had  learned  the  identity  of  the  graduate,  and  when 
he  could  he  examined  him  with  interest,  remembering 
what  Jack  Rogers  had  told  of  the  last  year's  captain. 
For  awhile  King  had  little  to  say;  he  merely  followed 
the  game  as  it  went  back  and  forth  in  the  middle  of  the 


COACHES  AND  PLAYEES  71 

field.  Then  came  a  try  around  the  second 's  left  end  and 
Roy,  running  in,  brought  the  first's  left  half-back  to 
earth.  The  tackle  was  a  hard  one  and  the  half-back 
lost  the  ball  and  sprang  to  his  feet  to  find  Eoy  edging 
toward  the  first's  goal  with  it  under  his  arm.  It  was 
the  second's  first  down  then,  and  Eoy  sent  full-back 
crashing  against  the  opposing  left-guard  for  a  yard  and 
a  half.  That  began  an  advance  that  the  first  was  unable 
to  stay.  Roy  was  everywhere,  and  time  and  again,  when 
the  whistle  had  blown,  he  was  found  at  the  bottom  of  the 
heap  still  trying  to  pull  the  runner  ahead.  But  a  fumble 
by  the  second's  left-tackle,  who  had  been  drawn  back 
for  a  plunge,  changed  the  tide  and  the  ball  went  back  to 
the  first  almost  under  her  goal  posts.  A  halt  was  called, 
Johnny  King  conferred  a  moment  with  Mr.  Cobb  and 
Roy  was  summoned  to  the  first,  Bacon  slipping  across  to 
the  other  line.  But  Roy  could  have  told  King  then  and 
there  that  the  change  would  n't  pay,  for  he  knew  Horace 
Burlen.  And  it  did  n't.  King  frowned  and  puzzled 
during  three  plays.     Then  his  brow  lighted. 

"Change  those  centers,"  he  commanded. 

Forrest,  amazed  and  embarrassed  by  the  unexpected 
honor,  changed  places  with  Horace. 

"Somebody  tell  him  the  key  number  for  the  signals," 
said  King.  ' '  Forrest,  let  's  see  you  wake  up ;  you  're 
slower  than  you  were  last  year.  Now  get  in  there  and 
do  something!" 

And  Forrest  smiled  good-naturedly  and  bent  over  the 
(Ball. 

Things  went  better  at  once,  and,   Forrest  and  Roy 


72  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

working  together  like  well  fitted  parts  of  a  machine,  the 
ball  went  down  the  field  on  straight  plays  and  over  the 
line  for  the  first  score.  But  Forrest  had  to  work,  for 
Horace,  smarting  under  the  indignity  of  a  return  to  the 
second,  fought  over  every  inch  of  the  ground.  The  ball 
was  taken  from  the  first  and  given  to  Bacon.  And  then 
there  was  a  different  story  to  tell.  Bacon  piled  his  men 
through  center,  Horace  getting  the  jump  on  Forrest 
every  time  and  crashing  through  in  spite  of  the  efforts 
of  the  secondary  defense.  King  shook  his  head  and 
frowned.  Then  he  called  Jack  Rogers  out  of  the  line 
and  talked  to  him  for  a  minute,  while  the  players  repaired 
broken  laces  and  had  their  heated  faces  sponged  off. 
Roy,  making  the  rounds  of  the  men,  cheering  and  entreat- 
ing, caught  by  accident  a  portion  of  the  conversation 
between  the  two. 

"That  's  where  you  've  made  your  mistake,"  King 
was  saying  sorrowfully.  "You  've  failed  to  see  the 
possibilities  in  Forrest.  Slow?  Sure  he  is;  slow  as  an 
ice  wagon !  But  you  could  have  knocked  a  lot  of  that 
out  of  him.  He  's  too  good-natured ;  I  know  the  sort ;  but 
mark  my  words,  Jack,  if  you  can  get  him  mad  he  '11  play 
like  a  whirlwind !  Oh,  it  's  too  late  now ;  Bacon  and 
Burlen  are  your  best  pair.  Only— well,  there  's  no  use 
regretting.  You  've  picked  a  pretty  good  team,  old  man, 
and  if  you  can  ginger  them  up.  a  bit  more,  get  more  fight 
into  them  next  Saturday,  you  '11  stand  to  win.  Re- 
member this,  Jack;  a  fresh  center  that  knows  the  game, 
even  if  he  is  slow,  is  better  than  a  tuckered  one.     Give 


COACHES  AND  PLAYERS  73 

Forrest  a  chance  in  the  second  half,  if  you  can ;  and  put 
Porter  in  with  him.  They  're  a  good  pair.  Too  bad 
Porter  can't  work  better  with  Burlen;  he  's  a  streak, 
that  kid!    Well—" 

Roy  moved  out  of  hearing  and  presently  he  and 
Forrest  were  back  on  the  second  and  they  were  hammer- 
ing their  way  down  the  field  again.  The  first  fifteen- 
minute  half  ended  with  the  ball  in  possession  of  the 
second  on  the  first's  "twenty-yard  line.  The  players 
trotted  to  the  side-line  and  crept  under  their  blankets 
and  sweaters,  King  and  Rogers  and  Cobb  talking  and 
gesticulating  a  little  way  off.  Roy  found  himself  next 
to  Forrest.  The  center,  rubbing  thoughtfully  at  a 
strained  finger,  heaved  a  sigh. 

"Sorry  I  disappointed  Johnny,"  he  said.  "But, 
shucks !  Why,  I  could  n  't  stand  up  ten  minutes  against 
that  Hammond  center!  I  know  what  I  'm  good  for, 
Porter ;  I  don 't  try  to  deceive  myself  into  thinking  I  'm 
a  great  player;  only — well,  I  'm  sorry  I  could  n't  do 
better  for  Johnny  King." 

"You  '11  do  a  heap  better  next  Saturday,"  answered 
Roy. 

"Pshaw!     They  won't  let  me  into  it!" 

"You  wait  and  see,"  said  Roy.  "And  if  you  go  in 
I  guess  I  will.  And  if  we  do  get  into  it,  Forrest,  let  's 
show  them  what  we  can  do,  will  you?" 

Forrest  turned  and  observed  the  other's  earnest  coun- 
tenance smilingly. 

"I   '11  do  the  best  I  know  how,"  he  said  good-nat- 


74  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

uredly,  "but  I  guess  they  '11  do  better  to  leave  me  out." 

' '  Oh,  you  be  hanged ! ' '  grunted  Roy.  ' '  You  '11  fight  or 
I  '11  punch  you ! ' ' 

"Oh,  I  guess  I  '11  get  my  fill  of  punches,"  laughed 
Forrest.  "They  say  that  Hammond  center  is  a  corker 
at  that  game  ! ' ' 

"I  believe  you  're  scared  of  him,"  taunted  Roy. 

But  Forrest  only  shook  his  big  head  slowly. 

"Oh,  I  guess  not,"  he  answered.  "Come  on;  time  's 
up." 

The  first  scored  again  soon  after  play  was  resumed, 
Jack  Rogers  getting  through  outside  left-tackle  for  a 
twelve-yard  plunge  across  the  line.  Then  the  ball  went 
to  the  second  and,  with  the  injunction  to  confine  his 
plays  to  straight  plunges  at  the  line,  Roy  took  up  the 
fight.  But  the  first  were  playing  their  very  best  to-day ; 
perhaps  the  presence  of  the  old  captain  had  a  good  deal 
to  do  with  it ;  at  all  events,  the  second 's  gains  were  few 
and  far  between  and  several  times  it  lost  the  ball  only  to 
have  it  returned  by  order  of  the  coaches.  They  were 
trying  out  the  first's  defense  and  although  twice  Roy 
stood  inside  of  the  first's  ten-yard  line,  the  practice 
ended  without  a  score  for  the  second. 

"I  thought  you  'd  made  the  first  that  time,"  said 
Chub  as  he  and  Roy  walked  back  to  the  campus  to- 
gether later.  "You  would  have,  too,  if  Horace  had  n't 
passed  like  an  idiot." 

' '  I  knew  he  would, ' '  said  Roy.  ' '  There  was  n  't  much 
use  trying  to  do  anything  with  him  in  front  of  me.     If 


COACHES  AND  PLAYEES  75 

only  Forrest  would  get  some  snap  into  his  playing  I 
Great  Scott,  he  's  a  regular  tortoise ! ' ' 

"Well,  there  's  a  week  yet,"  said  Chub  hopefully. 
"There  's  no  telling  what  may  happen  in  a  week." 

"There  won't  anything  happen  as  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned," answered  the  other  a  trifle  despondently. 

Nor  did  there.  "When  practice  was  over  on  Thurs- 
day Roy  stood  with  the  second  and  answered  the  cheer 
given  them  by  the  first,  and  afterwards  he  and  Forrest 
walked  over  to  the  gymnasium  together  trying  not  to 
feel  blue. 

"Well,  that  's  over  with  for  this  year,"  grunted 
Forrest.  "Tomorrow  we  '11  be  gentlemen  and  strut 
around  in  some  decent  clothes. ' '  He  looked  thoughtfully 
at  his  torn  and  faded  brown  jersey.  ' '  I  guess  this  is  the 
last  time  I  '11  wear  you,  old  chap, ' '  he  said  softly. 

But  Forrest  was  mistaken,  for  the  next  afternoon  he 
and  Roy  and  four  other  members  of  the  second  were  out 
on  the  gridiron  again  walking  through  plays  and  learn- 
ing the  new  signals  of  the  first.  Jack  Rogers  was  n't  go- 
ing to  lose  the  morrow's  game  on  account  of  lack  of 
players.  There  was  a  solid  hour  and  a  quarter  of  it, 
and  when  Roy  went  to  bed  at  half-past  nine,  a  half 
hour  earlier  than  usual,  formations  and  signals  were 
still  buzzing  through  his  brain. 

The  gridiron,  freshly  marked,  glistened  under  bright 
sunlight.  November  could  not  have  been  kinder  in  the 
matter  of  weather.  There  had  been  no  hard  freeze  since 
the  rains  and  the  field  was  as  springy  under  foot  as  in 


76  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

September.  Over  on  the  far  side  a  big  cherry  and  black 
flag  fluttered  briskly  in  the  breeze  and  beneath  it,  over- 
flowing from  the  small  stand  onto  the  yellowing  turf, 
were  Hammond's  supporters.  Opposite  were  the  Ferry 
Hill  hordes  under  their  brown  and  white  banner  and 
with  them  a  sprinkling  of  townsfolk  from  Silver  Cove. 
Here  were  Doctor  Emery,  Mrs.  Emery  and  Harry,  the 
latter  armed  with  a  truculent  brown  and  wmite  banner; 
nearby  was  Mr.  Buckman  acting  as  squire  to  a  group  of 
ladies  from  the  town.  Beyond  was  Roy,  one  of  a  half- 
dozen  blanketed  forms;  still  further  along,  squatting 
close  to  the  side-line,  was  Chub  Eaton,  and  from  where 
he  sat  down  to  the  farther  thirty-yard  line  boys  with 
brown  and  white  flags  and  tin  horns  were  scattered. 
And  between  the  opposing  ranks  were  two  dozen  per- 
sons upon  whom  all  eyes  were  fixed.  Eleven  of  them 
wore  the  brown  jerseys  and  brown  and  white  striped 
stockings  of  Ferry  Hill  School.  Eleven  others  wore  the 
cherry-colored  jerseys  and  cherry  and  black  stockings 
of  Hammond  Academy.  Two  more  were  in  ordinary 
attire  save  that  sweaters  had  taken  the  places  of  coats. 
These  latter  were  the  officials,  both  college  men,  the 
umpire  showing  in  his  sweater  the  light  red  of  Cornell, 
and  the  referee,  by  the  same  means,  proving  allegiance  to 
Columbia.  The  two  teams  had  been  facing  each  other 
for  fifteen  minutes,  during  which  time  the  ball  had 
hovered  continuously  in  mid-field.  And  now  for  the 
fourth  time  it  had  changed  hands  and  Bacon  was  crying 
his  signals.     From  the  Ferry  Hill  supporters  came  a 


COACHES  AND  PLAYERS  77 

rattling  oheer;  "Rah,  rah,  rah!  Rah,  rah,  rah!  Rah, 
rah,  rah!      Ferry  Hill!     Ferry  Hill!      Ferry  Hill!" 

And  from  across  the  field  of  battle  swept  back,  mocking 
and  defiant,  Hammond's  parody  "Rah,  rah,  rah!  Rah, 
rah,  rah !  Rah  rah,  rah !  Very  111 !  Very  111 !  Very  111!" 

Then  cheers  were  forgotten,  for  Kirby,  Ferry  Hill's 
full-back,  was  tearing  a  gash  in  the  red  line  outside  of 
right-guard.  He  was  almost  free  of  the  enemy  when 
Pool,  the  opposing  quarter,  dragged  him  down.  But 
twelve  yards  is  something  to  gladden  the  heart  when  for 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  half-yard  gains  have  been  the  rule. 
Ferry  Hill  forgot  to  cheer ;  she  just  yelled,  each  boy  for 
himself,  and  it  was  more  than  a  minute  before  Chub, 
leading,  could  get  them  together.  This  time  Ham- 
mond forgot  to  mock  and  instead  sent  up  a  long,  lusty 
slogan  that  did  her  credit : 

"Rah,  rah,  rah!  Who  are  we?  H-A-M-M-O-N-D ! 
Hoorah,  Hoorah !  Hammond  Academy !  Rah,  rah,  rah ! ' ' 

Another  break  in  the  cherry-hued  line  and  Ferry  Hill 
was  down  on  the  opponent's  thirty-yard  line  Jack  Rog- 
ers holding  the  ball  at  arm's-length  as  he  lay  on  the  turf 
with  half  the  Hammond  team  upon  him.  Then  came 
two  unsuccessful  attempts  to  get  through  the  center, 
followed  by  a  double-pass  that  barely  gained  the  neces- 
sary five  yards.  Chub  was  busy  now  and  so  were  all 
the  others  on  that  side  of  the  gridiron.  Even  Harry 
joined  her  shrill  voice,  the  while  she  waved  her  flag 
valiantly.  Again  the  Brown  charged  into  the  enemy's 
line,  but  this  time  her  attack  was  broken  into  fragments 


78  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

and  Whitcomb  was  borne  back  for  a  loss  of  six  yards.  A 
tandem  on  right-tackle  failed  to  regain  more  than  a 
yard  of  the  lost  ground  and  Pryor,  left  half-back,  fell 
back  for  the  kick.  It  was  a  poor  attempt,  the  ball 
shooting  almost  straight  into  air.  When  it  came  down 
the  Hammond  right-tackle  found  it,  fought  his  way 
over  two  white  streaks  and  was  finally  pulled  to  earth  on 
the  forty-yard  line.  Then  the  tide  of  battle  turned  with 
a  vengeance.  Back  over  the  field  went  Hammond,  using 
her  heavy  backs  in  a  tackle-tandem  formation  with 
telling  effect.  The  gains  were  short  but  frequent.  The 
wings  caught  the  worst  of  the  hammering,  for  at  center 
Hammond  found  it  impossible  to  gain,  although  Jones, 
her  much-heralded  center-rush,  was  proving  himeslf  a 
good  match  for  Horace  Burlen.  Jack  Rogers,  at  left- 
tackle,  was  a  hard  proposition,  but  Fernald,  beside  him 
at  left  guard,  was  weak,  and  not  a  few  of  the  gains  were 
on  that  side.  On  the  other  side  Hadden  at  tackle  was 
playing  high,  and  although  Gallup  was  doing  his  best 
to  break  things  up,  that  wing  gave  badly  before  Ham- 
mond's fierce  onslaught.  The  backs  saved  the  day  time 
and  again,  bringing  down  the  runner  when  almost  clear 
of  the  line.  Hammond  tried  no  tricks,  but  pinned  her 
faith  to  straight  football,  relying  upon  an  exceptionally 
heavy  and  fast  set  of  backs.  Down  to  Ferry  Hill's 
twenty-five  yards  swept  the  line  of  battle,  slowly,  ir- 
revocably. There,  Bacon  shrieking  his  entreaties  and 
Jack    heartening    the    men    with   slaps    on   backs    and 


COACHES  AND  PLAYERS  79 

shoulders,  the  brown-clad  line  held  against  the  enemy 
and  received  the  ball  on  downs. 

Maybe  Ferry  Hill  did  n  't  leap  and  shout !  Down  the 
side-line  raced  Chub  and  his  companions,  waving  flags 
and  awakening  the  echoes  with  discordant,  frenzied 
tootings  on  their  horns.  And  Mr.  Cobb,  quietly  chewing 
a  grass-blade,  smiled  once  and  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief. 

The  Brown 's  first  attempt  netted  scarcely  a  yard.  Her 
second,  a  quarter-back  run,  came  to  an  inglorious  end, 
Bacon  being  nailed  well  back  of  the  line.  Then,  with  six 
yards  to  gain  on  the  third  down,  Pryor  once  more  fell 
back  for  a  kick.  This  time  he  got  the  ball  off  well  and 
the  opponents  went  racing  back  up  the  field.  Hammond 's 
quarter  gathered  it  in,  reeled  off  some  ten  yards  and  was 
brought  down  by  Warren.  Once  again  the  advance 
began,  but  now  there  were  fewer  gains  through  the  left 
of  the  brown  line ;  Fernald  had  found  his  pace  and  he 
and  Jack  Rogers  were  working  together  superbly.  The 
other  side  was  still  vulnerable,  however,  and  soon,  before 
the  fifty-five-yard  line  had  been  passed,  the  Ferry  Hill 
supporters  saw  with  dismay  that  Hammond  was  aiming 
her  attack,  and  not  without  success,  at  the  center  of  her 
opponent's  line.  Horace  Burlen  was  weakening,  and 
although  Fernald  and  Gallup,  on  either  side,  were  aiding 
him  all  in  their  power,  Hammond's  tandem  plunged 
through  his  position  again  and  again  for  small  gains. 
Bacon's  voice,  hoarse  and  strained,  coaxed  and  com- 
manded, but  down  to  the  forty  yards  went  the  cherry 


80  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE 

and  black,  and  from  there  to  the  thirty-five,  and  from 
there,  but  by  shorter  gains  now,  to  the  thirty. 

' '  Hold  'em !  Hold  'em !  Hold  'em ! ' '  was  the  cry  from 
the  wavers  of  the  brown  and  white  banners.  But  it  was 
far  easier  said  than  done.  Once  more  within  sight  of  a 
score,  Hammond  was  desperately  determined  to  reach 
that  last  white  line.  To  the  twenty-five  yards  she  crept, 
and  then  she  was  almost  to  the  twenty.  A  long  plunge 
through  center  and  the  fifteen  was  close  at  hand.  And 
then,  while  the  wearied  and  battered  defense  crawled  to 
their  feet,  a  whistle  shrilled  sharply  and  the  half  was 
over !  And  Jack  Rogers  as  he  limped  across  the  trampled 
turf  to  the  bench  thanked  his  star  for  the  timely  in- 
tervention. 

The  players  disappeared  through  the  gate  to  the 
gymnasium,  followed  by  Mr.  Cobb  and  a  handful  of 
graduates.  On  the  other  side  of  the  gridiron  the  Ham- 
mond warriors,  wrapped  in  their  red  blankets,  sat  in  a 
long  row  and  were  administered  to  by  rubbers  and 
lectured  by  coaches.  On  the  Ferry  Hill  side  the  boys 
were  singing  the  school  song  and  interspersing  it  with 
cheers  and  blasts  of  tin  horns.    Chub  sought  out  Roy. 

"Everybody  says  you  '11  go  in  this  half,"  he  whis- 
pered.   ' '  If  you  do,  sock  it  to  'em  ! ' ' 

"I  won't  get  in  unless  Forrest  does,"  answered  Roy. 

"Well,  he  's  sure  to,  is  n't  he?  Why,  Horace  is  al- 
most done  up  already ! ' ' 

"Maybe,   but  ten  minutes   of   rest   brings   a   fellow 


COACHES  AND  PLAYEES  81 

around  in  great  shape,  and  I  would  n't  be  surprised  if 
he  lasted  the  game  out." 

' '  Last  nothing !  Look  at  the  way  Hammond  was  plow- 
ing through  him !  Say,  that  's  a  great  tandem  of  theirs. 
is  n't  it?" 

"Pretty  good." 

' '  Pretty  good !  I  should  think  so ! " 

' '  It  would  n  't  be  so  much  against  a  team  that  got 
started  quicker.  Our  line  's  too  plaguey  slow  and  half 
of  them  are  playing  away  up  in  the  air.  Look  at 
Hadden !  Rogers  ought  to  make  him  get  down  on  his 
knees.    Hello,  here  they  come." 

"Can  we  keep  them  from  scoring,  do  you  think?" 
asked  one  of  the  substitutes  anxiously  as  the  brown- 
stockinged  players  trotted  back  through  the  gate. 

"Yes,  I  guess  so,"  Roy  answered.  "But  I  don't 
believe  we  can  score  ourselves." 

"Well,  a  tie  is  better  than  being  beaten,"  said  the 
first  youth  hopefully. 

"No  it  is  n't,"  said  Chub.  "It  's  the  meanest  kind 
of  an  ending.  You  've  done  nothing  and  the  other 
fellow's  done  nothing  and  you  're  no  better  off  than  you 
were  when  you  started.  We  played  eleven  innings  with 
Hammond  year  before  last  and  quit  six  to  six.  My,  but 
we  were  mad !  And  tired !  I  'd  rather  they  'd  licked  us. ' ' 

"Hope  I  get  a  show,"  muttered  the  other  wistfully. 
He  was  a  substitute  end  and  only  his  lack  of  weight  had 
kept  him  off  the  team. 


82  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"There  's  Cobb  laying  it  down  to  'em,"  whispered 
Chub.  ' '  Watch  his  finger ;  you  'd  think  he  was  in  class, 
eh?  Any  new  men  going  in?  Yes  there  's — No,  it 
is  n't,  either.  Blessed  if  every  man  is  n't  going  back! 
Oh,  hang ! 

"Some  of  them  won't  be  there  long,  I  guess,"  said 
Roy. 

"Well,  I  must  go  back  and  get  some  noise.  The  lazy 
chumps  don't  half  cheer.  Hope  you  get  on,  old  chap. 
So  long!" 

Presently  the  Ferry  Hill  cheer  was  ringing  across 
the  field,  and  Chub,  his  coat  thrown  aside,  was  out  on 
the  side-line  leading  as  only  he  could.  Over  the  fading 
white  lines  the  two  teams  arranged  themselves.  From 
the  Hammond  side  came  a  last  burst  of  noise.  Spectators 
scurried  back  to  points  of  vantage.  The  referee  raised 
his  hand. 

"Ready,  Ferry  Hill?" 

Jack  answered  ' '  Ready ! ' ' 

"Ready,  Hammond?" 

"All  right,"  called  the  Cherry's  right-end  and  captain. 

The  whistle  sounded  and  the  game  was  on  again. 

The  greater  part  of  the  second  half  was  almost  a 
repetition  of  the  first.  Both  teams  were  playing  straight 
foot-ball  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  which  was  the 
more  aggressive.  For  a  time,  the  ball  was  in  Ferry 
Hill's  territory,  and  then  for  another  ten  minutes,  in 
Hammond's.  There  were  many  nerve-racking  moments, 
but  each  side,  whenever  its  goal  seemed  in  danger,  was 


COACHES  AND  PLAYERS  83 

lucky  enough  to  get  the  ball  on  downs  and,  by  a  long 
punt,  send  it  out  to  the  middle  of  the  field. 

Jack  Rogers  kicked  off  to  Hammond's  left  half-back 
who  made  fifteen  yards  behind  good  interference  and 
landed  the  ball  on  his  own  thirty-five  yards.  Back 
went  the  right-tackle,  the  tandem  swept  forward  and 
broke  into  fragments  against  the  Brown's  left  wing.  No 
gain.  Once  more  it  sprang  at  the  line  and  this  time 
went  through  between  Gallup  and  Hadden  for  two 
yards.  Third  down  and  three  to  go.  A  fake  kick  gave 
the  ball  to  the  right  half  and  that  youth  reeled  off  four 
yards  before  he  was  downed.  The  next  attack,  at  the 
center,  netted  a  yard  and  a  half;  the  next,  at  the  same 
place,  two  yards ;  the  rest  of  the  distance  was  gained 
outside  of  left  tackle.  So  it  went  for  awhile  and  once 
more  the  ball  was  in  Ferry  Hill  territory. 

Hammond  was  plugging  steadily  now  at  center  and 
right  side,  Burlen,  Gallup  and  Hadden  all  receiving 
more  attention  than  they  coveted.  At  last  a  long  gain 
through  Hadden  left  that  youth  crumpled  up  on  the  turf. 
The  whistle  blew  and  a  big  sub,  tearing  off  his  sweater, 
raced  onto  the  field.  Hadden  was  up  in  a  minute,  only 
to  discover  that  his  way  led  toward  the  side-line.  The 
sub,  Walker,  was  a  trifle  harder  proposition  for  Ham- 
mond, and  for  awhile  that  side  of  the  line  showed  up 
well,  but  by  the  time  the  tide  had  swept  down  to  the 
thirty-five-yard  line  Hammond  was  once  more  gaining 
almost  as  she  liked  through  right-tackle  and  guard. 
There  were  no  gains  longer  than  four  yards,  and  such 


84  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

were  infrequent  owing  to  the  good  work  of  the  backs, 
but  almost  every  attack  meant  an  advance,  and  not  once 
did  Hammond  fail  of  her  distance  in  three  downs.  But 
on  the  thirty-yard  line  Ferry  Hill  called  a  halt.  The 
play  was  directly  in  the  middle  of  the  field  and  the 
goal-posts  loomed  up  terribly  near.  Hammond's  first 
try  faiied,  for  Bacon  guessed  the  point  of  attack  and 
Ferry  Hill  threw  her  whole  force  behind  Burlen.  Foiled 
there,  Hammond  tried  right-tackle  again,  shoved  Walker 
aside  and  went  through  for  a  scant  two  yards.  It  was 
third  down,  and  over  on  the  side-line  Roy  measured  the 
distance  from  cross-bar  to  back-field  and  watched  for  a 
place-kick.  But  Hammond,  true  to  her  plan  of  battle, 
made  no  attempt  at  a  kick  but  sent  her  tandem  plunging 
desperately  at  the  line.  It  was  a  mistake,  as  events 
proved,  to  point  the  tandem  at  Jack  Rogers,  for  although 
the  attack  gained  something  by  being  unexpected,  it 
failed  to  win  the  required  distance.  Jack  gave  before  it, 
to  be  sure,  and  spent  a  minute  on  the  ground  after  the 
whistle  had  blown,  but  when  the  referee  had  measured 
the  distance  with  the  chain  it  was  found  that  Hammond 
had  failed  of  her  distance  by  six  inches ! 

Bedlam  let  loose  on  the  Ferry  Hill  side  as  Bacon  ran 
in  from  his  position  almost  under  the  goal-posts,  clapped 
his  hands  and  cried  his  signals.  Pryor  fell  back  to  the 
fifteen-yard  line,  there  was  a  breathless  moment  of  sus- 
pense, and  then  the  ball  went  arching  up  the  field,  turn- 
ing lazily  over  and  over  in  its  flight. 

Hammond  captured  it  on  her  forty  yards  but  was 


COACHES  AND  PLAYERS  85 

downed,  by  the  Ferry  Hill  left-end.  Then  it  began  all 
over  again,  that  heart-breaking,  nerve-racking  advance. 
And  this  time  the  gains  were  longer.  At  center  Ham- 
mond went  through  for  a  yard,  two  yards,  even  three. 
Once  a  penalty  cost  Hammond  five  yards,  but  the  dis- 
tance was  regained  by  a  terrific  rush  through  Gallup, 
that  youth  being  put  for  the  moment  entirely  out  of  the 
play.  Later,  down  near  Ferry  Hill's  forty-five-yard 
line,  a  fumble  by  Pool,  the  plucky,  hard-playing  Ham- 
mond quarter,  cost  his  side  ten  yards  more.  And  al- 
though Pool  himself  managed  to  recover  the  ball  it  went 
to  the  opponent  on  downs. 

I  think  that  fumble  was  in  a  measure  a  turning  point 
in  the  game.  Hammond  never  played  quite  as  aggres- 
sively afterwards.  She  had  gained  a  whole  lot  of  ground 
at  a  cost  of  much  strength,  only  to  be  turned  back 
thrice.  It  began  to  look  as  though  Fate  was  against 
her.  And  a  minute  later  it  seemed  that  Fate  had  de- 
cided to  favor  her  opponent.  For  when  Pryor  kicked  on 
first  down  the  breeze  suddenly  stiffened  and  took  the 
ball  over  the  head  of  Pool.  The  latter  turned  and  found 
it  on  the  bound  near  the  ten  yards,  but  by  that  time 
the  Ferry  Hill  ends  were  upon  him  and  he  was  glad  to 
call  it  down  on  his  fifteen  yards.  The  sight  of  the  two 
teams  lined  up  there  almost  under  Hammond's  goal 
brought  joy  to  the  hearts  of  the  friends  of  the  Brown, 
and  the  cheering  took  on  a  new  tone,  that  of  hope.  But 
the  ball  was  still  in  the  enemy's  hands  and  once  more 
the  advance  began.   They  hammered  hard  at  Burlen  and 


86  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

gained  their  distance.  They  swooped  down  on  "Walker 
and  trampled  over  him.  They  thrust  Gallup  aside  and 
went  marching  through  until  the  secondary  defense  piled 
them  up  in  a  heap.  But  it  was  slower  going  now,  there 
was  more  time  between  plays,  and  knowing  ones 
amongst  the  watchers  predicted  a  scoreless  game.  And 
there  was  scarcely  twelve  minutes  left. 

Roy,  his  blanket  trailing  from  his  shoulders  as  he 
moved  crouching  along  the  border  of  the  field,  prayed 
for  a  fumble,  anything  to  give  his  side  the  ball  there 
within  striking  distance  of  the  Hammond  goal.  But 
Hammond  was  n't  fumbling  to  any  extent  that  day; 
wearied  and  disappointed  as  they  were,  her  players  clung 
to  the  ball  like  grim  death.  On  her  twenty-five  yards 
she  made  a  gain  of  three  yards  through  center  and  when 
the  pile  of  writhing  bodies  had  been  untangled  Horace 
Burlen  still  lay  upon  the  sod.  Roy  turned  quickly  tow- 
ard Forrest.  That  youth  was  watching  calmly  and 
chewing  a  blade  of  grass.  Failing  to  catch  his  eye,  Roy 
looked  for  Mr.  Cobb.  Already  he  was  heading  toward 
them.  The  substitute  end  tied  and  untied  the  arms  of 
the  brown  jersey  thrown  over  his  back  with  nervous 
fingers.     But  the  coach  never  looked  in  his  direction. 

"Forrest!"  he  called.  And  Forrest  slowly  climbed 
to  his  feet. 

"Porter!"  And  Roy  was  up  like  a  flash,  had  tossed 
aside  his  blanket  and  was  awaiting  orders. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

FORKEST  LOSES   HIS   TEMPER  AND   ROY   KEEPS   HIS 
PROMISE 

THE  coach  led  Roy  and  Forrest  to  the  field  and 
gave  them  his  orders. 

"Get  in  there,  you  two,"  he  said  briskly,  "and  show 
what  you  can  do.  There  's  small  hope  of  scoring 
against  Hammond,  but  if  the  chance  comes  work  their 
ends  for  all  there  is  in  it.  What  you  've  got  to  do — got 
to  do,  mind ! — is  to  keep  them  away  from  your  goal-line. 
Forrest,  if  you  ever  moved  quick  in  your  life  do  it 
now.  You  've  simply  got  to  get  the  jump  on  Jones. 
He  's  a  good  man,  but  recollect  that  he  's  been  playing 
pretty  nearly  an  hour  and  is  dead  tired.  He  '11  play 
foul,  too,  I  guess;  Burlen's  face  is  pretty  well  colored 
up.  But  don't  you  dare  to  slug  back  at  him;  under- 
stand?" 

Forrest  nodded  smilingly. 

"And  as  for  you,  Porter,  just  you  play  the  best  game 
you  know  how.  Keep  the  fellows '  courage  up ;  that  's 
half  of  it.  I  'm  taking  Rogers  out — he  's  not  fit  to 
stand  up  any  longer — and  you  '11  act  as  captain. 
I  guess  you  '11  know  what  to  do  on  defense,  and  if 
you  get  the  ball  remember  the  ends.  Try  it  yourself 
on   that    formation    for    tandem    on    guard;    and    give 

87 


88  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

Whitcomb  a  chance,  for  I  think  you  can  get  through 
between  tackle  and  end.  Don't  be  afraid  to  take  risks; 
if  you  get  the  ball  risk  anything !     Go  ahead  now ! ' ' 

Roy  and  Porter  trotted  toward  the  group  of  play- 
ers. As  they  approached  Burlen  and  Rogers  were 
coming  unwillingly  off,  the  former  looking  pretty  well 
punished  and  the  latter  limping  badly.  Jack  Rogers 
turned  from  his  course  to  speak  to  them. 

"Good  boy,  Forrest!"  he  panted.  "We  Ve  got  to 
stop  them  and  you  can  do  it.  Porter,  remember  your 
promise !" 

Roy  nodded  and  sprinted  into  the   group. 

"All  right  now!"  he  cried  cheerfully.  "Get  into 
it  everybody  and  stop  this.  You  fellows  in  the  line 
have  got  to  play  lower.  Get  down  there,  Walker, 
you  're  up  in  the  clouds.  Charge  into  'em  now !  Stop 
it  right  here !  You  can  do  it.  Look  at  'em !  They  're 
beaten  right  now  ! ' ' 

"Only  we  don't  know  it,"  growled  a  big  guard,  wip- 
ing the  perspiration  from  his  face  onto  the  sleeve  of 
his  red  jersey.     Roy  grinned  across  at  him. 

"You  will  know  it  pretty  soon,  my  friend,"  he  an- 
swered.   "All  right  now,  fellows!    Every  man  into  it!" 

Then  he  retreated  up  the  field  and  watched. 

Hammond  had  replaced  her  left-tackle  and  left 
half  with  fresh  men,  and,  when  the  whistle  blew,  went  at 
the  work  again  as  though  she  meant  business.  A 
straight  plunge  by  the  new  left  half  gained  a  yard 
through  Gallup.     Then  the  tandem  formed  again  and 


FORREST  LOSES  TEMPER,  ROY  KEEPS  PROMISE    89 

again  the  hammering  began.  Presently  Roy  saw  that 
Forrest  had  been  picked  out  for  attention  and  was  get- 
ting a  lot  of  it.  Two  gains  through  him  in  quick 
succession  brought  the  ball  back  to  the  thirty  yards. 
Roy  raced  up  to  the  line,  pulled  Forrest  about  by  the 
shoulder  and  shook  a  fist  in  the  face  of  that  amazed 
young  giant. 

"Forrest,  if  you  let  'em  through  here  again  I  '11 
lick  you  till  you  can 't  stand  up ! "  shouted  Roy,  his 
blue  eyes  blazing.  "You  coward!  Get  in  there  and 
do  something !  Put  that  man  out.  Get  the  jump  on  'em ! 
He  's  half  dead  now!" 

Forrest  forgot  to  smile. 

"All  right,"  he  growled. 

After  the  next  attack  at  center  Roy  again  ran  up. 
Forrest  turned  with  a  bleeding  nose  and  a  new  light  in 
his  eyes. 

"You  don't  need  to  scold,"  he  said  quietly.  "He 
just  handed  me  this. ' ' 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked  Roy  scathingly. 

"Do?"  grunted  Forrest,  mad  clear  through.  "I  'm 
going  to  put  him  out  of  commission." 

' '  No  slugging,  remember  ! ' ' 

"I  won't  slug;  I  '11  just  play  ball!" 

And  he  did.  There  were  no  more  games  through 
center  while  play  lasted.  Time  and  again  Jones,  the  big 
Hammond  center,  was  literally  lifted  off  his  feet  by  For- 
rest's savage  onslaught;  twice  the  pass  was  practically 
spoiled.     Forrest  was  angry,   and  being  angry  forgot 


90  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

both  his  good-nature  and  his  slowness.  Hammond  soon 
transferred  her  attention  to  the  wings  again  and  found 
a  fairly  vulnerable  spot  where  Jack  Rogers  had  given 
place  to  a  substitute.  But  there  was  no  chance  for  her 
to  score  and  she  knew  it.  Now  she  was  only  killing 
time,  determined  to  keep  the  ball  in  her  possession  and 
guard  her  goal  until  the  whistle  blew.  And  she  would 
have  done  it,  too,  had  not  Forrest  lost  his  temper.  That 
blow  on  the  nose  hurt  and  he  set  out  to  make  life  as 
unpleasant  as  possible  for  his  adversary.  He  did  n't 
slug  once,  but  he  pushed  and  hauled  and  upset  Jones 
until  that  gentleman  was  thoroughly  exasperated. 
Over  and  over  he  appealed  to  the  officials  to  watch 
Forrest. 

"He   's  interfering  with  the  ball,"  he  declared. 

But  the  officials  could  n't  see  it  that  way.  And  fi- 
nally, when  the  ball  had  been  worked  back  to  the  center 
of  the  field  and  the  word  had  gone  around  that  there 
was  only  five  minutes  of  time  left,  Forrest  spoiled  a 
snap-back,  the  ball  trickled  from  Pool's  hands  and  For- 
rest plunged  through  and  fell  upon  it. 

Roy  raced  in,  crying  signals  as  he  came.  Time  was 
called  while  the  Hammond  center  and  the  Hammond 
captain  made  vain  appeals  to  have  the  ball  returned 
to  them,  claiming  interference  with  the  snapper-back. 
But,  as  before,  they  were  denied  and  the  two  teams 
lined  up  again,  this  time  with  the  ball  in  Forrest's 
hands. 

"7-6-43-89!"     called     Roy,     and     Whitcomb,     with 


FORREST  LOSES  TEMPER,  ROY  KEEPS  PROMISE    91 

the  pigskin  snuggled  in  his  elbow,  was  racing  around 
left  end.  All  of  eight  yards  gained,  and  the  crowd 
on  the  side-line  went  wild  with  delight !  Flags  waved 
and  horns  shrieked,  and  over  it  all,  or  so  Roy  thought, 
could  be  heard  the  shrill  voice  of  Harry! 

It  was  a  time  for  risks,  the  coach  had  said.  And  Roy 
took  them.  Over  and  over  he  attempted  hazardous 
plays  that  ought  not  to  have  succeeded,  but  that  did, 
partly,  perhaps,  because  of  their  very  improbability ! 
Twice  more  Whitcomb  was  sent  outside  of  left  end ; 
once  Pryor  got  through  for  four  yards  between  right 
tackle  and  guard;  and  once  Kirby,  full-back,  hurdled 
Jones  for  a  good  gain.  It  made  joy  in  the  Ferry  Hill 
camp  and  the  wavers  of  the  brown  and  white  banners 
had  visions  of  a  score.  But  they  were  not  considering 
the  fact  that  the  timer's  watch  proclaimed  but  two  min- 
utes left  and  that  that  official  was  walking  out  toward 
the  teams  proclaiming  the  fact. 

Two  minutes  was  not  time  enough  for  Ferry  Hill 
to  rush  the  ball  from  the  forty  yards  down  to  the  goal 
line  for  a  score,  even  when  the  backs  were  getting  two, 
three  and  even  four  yards  at  a  plunge.  But  even  those 
who  up  until  the  last  moment  had  hoped  that  the 
Brown  by  merit  or  fluke  would  win  out  could  not  but 
feel  almost  satisfied  at  the  ending  of  the  game.  For 
now  Ferry  Hill  was  outplaying  Hammond  man  for 
man,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  what  superiority  there 
was  in  age  and  weight  was  with  the  rival  team.  Both 
elevens  were   tired,   but   Ferry  Hill  was  the  least  so, 


92  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

and  to  her  admirers  it  seemed  that  her  warriors  fought 
harder,  more  determinedly  every  moment.  Chub, 
watching  anxiously  between  vocal  efforts,  came  to  this 
conclusion  and  turned  to  Sidney  Welch,  who,  having 
failed  to  make  the  team,  was  patriotically  doing  his 
best  to  cheer  it  on  to  victory. 

"Sid,"  said  Chub,  "if  we  had  another  quarter  of 
an  hour  to  play  we  'd  lick  'em  sure  as  fishing !  Why, 
we  're  playing  better  every  minute !  And  look  at  Roy 
Porter !  The  chump  is  just  getting  warmed  up !  Did 
you  ever  see  a  team  run  any  finer  than  that,  eh?  And 
look  at  the  way  he  gets  around  himself,  will  you  ?  Why, 
he  's  all  over  the  shop  and  into  everything !  He  re- 
minds me  of  Snip  out  in  the  barn.  I  saw  Snip  kill 
a  rat,  bite  the  cow's  leg,  chase  a  fly  and  scratch  his 
«ar  all  inside  of  ten  seconds  one  day.  And  Roy's  just 
like  him.  And,  just  between  you  and  me,  Sid,  the  fel- 
lows are  working  better  for  him  than  they  did  for 
Bacon,  but  maybe  it  's  because  they  're  finding  their 
pace.  If  only  Whitcomb  could  get  away  around  the 
end!  The  whistle  will  blow,  I  '11  bet  a  cookey,  just 
when  we  're  on  the  edge  of  a  score!  Why  does  n't 
Roy  try  a  quarter-back  run,  I  wonder?  Look  at  Jack 
Rogers ;  he  's  over  there  on  the  ground,  see  ?  I  '11 
bet  he  does  n't  know  whether  he  's  on  his  head  or  his 
feet,  and  I  don't  believe  he  could  tell  you  his  name 
this  minute  if  you  asked  him.  Fact  is,  my  boy,  I  feel 
rather  better  myself  for  talking  every  minute ;  it  sort 
of  keeps  my  heart  out  of  my  mouth.     And  as  for  you, 


FORREST  LOSES  TEMPER,  ROY  KEEPS  PROMISE  93 

Sid,  that  button  will  be  off  in  just  about  two  more 
turns.    Here,  let  's  give  'em  a  cheer." 

Chub  leaped  to  his  feet  and  in  a  moment  the  slogan 
was  thundering  across  the  field  to  where  eleven  brown- 
clad  figures  were  forming  once  more  against  the  foe. 
And  it  did  them  good,  that  cheer;  it  proclaimed  con- 
fidence and  affection,  and  it  heartened  them  so  that 
when  the  dust  of  battle  had  blown  aside  the  man  with 
the  ball  lay  across  the  thirty-yard  line ! 

It  was  maddening.  Only  thirty  yards  to  go,  only  six 
trampled  white  lines  to  cross,  and  not  time  enough  to 
do  it,  unless — Roy  called  for  time  to  tie  a  lace  and 
while  he  bent  over  his  shoe  he  thought  hard.  Ever 
since  he  had  taken  charge  of  the  team  he  had  been 
studying  the  disposition  of  the  enemy's  force.  He  had 
one  more  trump  to  play,  a  quarter-back  run.  He  had 
kept  it  for  the  last  because  he  did  not  want  to  appear 
to  be  seeking  personal  glory.  For  that  reason  he  had 
given  every  one  of  the  backs,  as  well  as  the  two  tackles, 
a  chance.  But  while  they  had  made  good  gains  they 
had  failed  to  get  clear  for  a  run.  And  now  he  was 
surely  entitled  to  a  try  himself.  Not  that  he  was  very 
hopeful  of  succeeding  where  the  others  had  failed,  for 
Pool,  the  rival  quarter,  was  a  veritable  wonder  and 
time  and  again  had  called  the  play  in  time  to  allow 
the  back-field  to  spoil  the  run.  But  time  was  almost 
up — there  could  scarcely  be  more  than  a  minute  and 
a  half  remaining — and  it  was  now  or  never. 

The  ball  was  on  Hammond's  twenty-eight  yards  and 


94  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

well  over  to  the  left  of  the  gridiron.  Pool  had  halved 
the  distance  to  his  goal  and  was  standing  there  on  his 
toes,  somewhat  over  toward  the  right,  watching  like  a 
lynx.  The  whistle  blew  and  Roy  called  his  signals. 
Right  tackle  fell  back  of  the  line  and  left  half  and 
full  formed  behind  him  in  tandem.  The  attack  was 
straight  at  center,  and  with  Forrest  heaving  and  shov- 
ing and  half  and  full  pushing  from  behind  tackle  went 
through  for  two  yards.  Again  the  same  formation  and 
the  same  point  of  attack.  But  this  time  Hammond's 
backs  were  there  and  the  gain  was  less  than  a  yard. 
It  was  third  down  and  a  trifle  over  two  to  go.  Once 
more  the  signals  and  the  tandem.  But  as  the  backs, 
led  by  right  tackle,  plunged  forward,  Roy,  with  the 
ball  hidden  at  his  side,  dodged  behind  them  and  sped 
along  the  line  toward  the  right.  For  a  moment  the 
ruse  went  undiscovered,  but  before  he  had  reached  his 
opening  between  tackle  and  end  Pool  had  seen  him  and 
had  started  to  head  him  off.  Then,  as  luck  would  have 
it,  Roy's  own  right  end  got  in  his  way  and  Roy  was 
forced  to  run  behind  him.  That  settled  the  fate  of 
the  attempt  at  a  touchdown.  Pool  was  close  up  to  him 
now.  Roy  ran  across  the  field  in  an  attempt  to  shake 
him  off  but  to  no  purpose.  Pie  had  not  gained  a  foot, 
and  he  knew  it.  There  was  no  use  in  heading  toward 
the  side  of  the  field  any  longer;  he  must  try  to  capture 
the  necessary  two  yards.  So,  swinging  quickly,  he 
headed  in,  got  one  of  the  yards,  made  a  brave  at- 
tempt to  dodge  the  wily  Pool  and  came  to  earth. 


FORREST  LOSES  TEMPER,  ROY  KEEPS  PROMISE         95 

''Hammond's  ball;  first  down!"     called  the  referee. 

Roy  trotted  back  up  the  field,  trying  his  best  not  to 
show  his  disappointment.  Hammond  was  not  going  to 
take  any  risks  there  in  front  of  her  goal  and  so  her 
quarter  fell  back  for  a  punt.  Pryor  ran  back  to  cover 
the  left  of  the  field.  Roy  heard  the  signals  called  and 
then  saw  the  Ferry  Hill  forwards  plunge  through  in 
an  endeavor  to  block  the  kick.  Then  the  ball  was  arch- 
ing up  against  the  darkening  sky.  For  a  moment  it 
was  impossible  to  judge  of  the  direction.  Then  Roy 
was  running  to  the  right  and  back  up  the  field.  It 
was  a  splendid  punt  and  must  have  covered  all  of  fifty 
yards,  for  when  it  settled  into  Roy's  arms  he  was  near 
his  own  thirty-five-yard  line. 

For  once  the  tuckered  Hammond  ends  were  slow  in 
getting  down  and  for  a  moment  Roy  had  an  open  field. 
With  Pryor  leading  he  dashed  straight  up  the  middle 
of  the  gridiron.  At  least  he  would  put  the  ball  back  in 
Hammond  territory.  Ten  yards,  and  then  Pryor  met 
the  first  of  the  enemy.  Roy  swerved  and  dodged  the 
second.  Then  the  foe  was  thick  in  front  of  him.  The 
Ferry  Hill  players  turned  and  raced  beside  him,  form- 
ing hasty  interference,  and  for  a  while  he  sped  on  un- 
molested to  the  wild  shrieks  of  the  watchers.  Then 
the  Hammond  left  half  broke  through  and  dove  at  him. 
Somehow,  in  what  way  he  could  never  have  told,  he 
escaped  that  tackle,  but  it  had  forced  him  toward  the 
side  of  the  field.  The  fifty-five-yard  line  was  behind 
him  now.    Back  of  him  pounded  the  feet  of  friend  and 


96  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

foe  alike ;  ahead  of  him  were  the  Hammond  right  half 
and  quarter,  the  former  almost  at  hand.  Roy  edged  a 
bit  into  the  field,  for  the  side-line  was  coming  danger- 
ously near.  Then  he  feinted,  felt  the  half-back's  clutch 
on  his  knee,  wrenched  himself  loose  and  went  stag- 
gering, spinning  on.  He  had  recovered  in  another  five 
yards  and  was  running  swiftly  again.  He  had  little 
fear  of  being  caught  from  behind,  for  he  believed  him- 
self a  match  for  any  runner  on  the  Hammond  eleven, 
but  in  front  of  him  was  Pool,  coming  up  warily  with 
eager  outstretched  hands,  striving  to  drive  him  out  of 
bounds.  Roy  cast  an  anxious  glance  toward  the  goal- 
line  and  his  heart  leaped.  Already  he  was  passing  the 
thirty  or  twenty-five-yard  line  and  the  final  white 
streak  looked  encouragingly  near.  Then  he  shifted  the 
ball  to  his  right  arm  and  turned  acutely  toward  the 
middle  of  the  field.  Pool  was  directly  in  his  path  now 
as  Roy,  fighting  for  breath,  sped  on  straight  for  the 
goal.  For  one  brief  instant  of  time  the  quarter's  eyes 
burned  into  his.  Then  the  decisive  moment  had  come, 
and  Roy,  taking  a  deep  breath,  gathered  himself.  For- 
ward shot  the  enemy  in  a  splendid  diving  tackle, 
clutching  fingers  outspread.  But  the  fingers  grasped 
empty  air,  for  as  he  left  the  ground,  Roy,  the  ball 
clutched  tightly  against  his  breast,  leaped  upward  and 
forward,  clearing  him  by  a  foot! 

From  there  to  the  goal-line  was  only  a  romp,  al- 
though he  had  to  fight  hard  for  breath  and  although 
the  defeated  right  half-back  was  close  behind  him  all 


FORREST  LOSES  TEMPER,  ROY  KEEPS  PROMISE  97 

the  way.  Straight  between  the  posts  he  staggered, 
placed  the  ball  on  the  turf  and  rolled  over  on  his 
back  beside  it.  Somewhere  they  were  cheering  madly 
and  nearer  at  hand  people  were  shouting.  Then,  re- 
covering from  his  momentary  giddiness,  Roy  opened 
his  eyes,  shut  them  again  because  someone  was  slap- 
ping a  great  cold,  wet  sponge  over  his  face  and  then 
sat  up.  Someone  gave  him  a  hand  and  he  got  on  to 
his  feet,  swayed  a  little  dizzily  and  then  found  himself 
in  the  grip  of  what  at  first  seemed  a  bear  and  after- 
wards turned  out  to  be  Jack  Rogers. 

"You  remembered  your  promise,  Porter,"  Jack  was 
saying  softly,  "and  I  '11  not  forget  mine.  You  're 
a  trump  ! ' ' 

Pryor  failed  miserably  at  the  try  for  goal,  but  who 
cared?  Surely  not  Jack  Rogers,  leading  the  cheer  for 
his  defeated  rivals;  nor  Roy,  dodging  his  fellows  as  he 
tried  to  steal  away  to  the  gymnasium;  nor  Harry,  wav- 
ing her  brown  and  white  flag  and  shrieking  lustily; 
least  of  all  the  throng  of  fellows  who,  with  banners 
flying  and  tin  horns  sounding,  danced  madly  around 
the  field  in  the  November  twilight. 


CHAPTER  IX 

RED  HAIR  AND  WHITE  RABBITS 

A  FELLOW  can't  make  a  touchdown  in  the  last  thirty 
seconds  of  play,  and  so  win  the  game  for  his  school, 
without  affecting  his  position.  No  matter  what  he  was 
before,  after  that  he  's  a  hero  and  a  saint  and  a  public 
benefactor  all  rolled  into  one.  Roy's  case  was  no  ex- 
ception. He  woke  up  Saturday  morning  a  rather  un^ 
important  and  quite  unpopular  person.  He  climbed 
out  of  bed  Sunday  morning  to  find  that,  metaphor- 
ically, the  world  was  his !  As  soon  as  the  bell  had 
rung  the  difference  was  apparent.  There  was  no  more 
dressing  in  silence,  no  more  waiting  till  the  others  were 
through  for  a  chance  at  the  wash-room.  It  was  "Morn- 
ing, Porter!  How  are  you  feeling  after  it?"  "Hello, 
Mr.  Quarter-back!  How  'd  you  sleep?"  Here, 
Stearns,  get  out  of  here  and  give  Porter  a  show;  he  's 
been  waiting  hours!"  And  in  the  midst  of  it  Chub 
came  tumbling  upstairs  half  dressed  to  sit  on  Roy's 
bed  and  delay  matters  so  that  they  barely  scraped  into 
dining  hall  between  the  closing  doors. 

Well,  you  and  I  are  n't  going  to  begrudge  him  the 
satisfaction  the  changed  conditions  brought  him.     Life 

98 


RED  HAIR  AND  WHITE  RABBITS  99 

has  been  using  him  rather  badly  for  six  weeks  or  so 
and  he  surely  deserved  some  compensation.  The  only 
fly  in  the  ointment  was  the  thought  that,  after  all,  the 
sudden  popularity  was  his  only  as  a  clever  quarter- 
back, that,  for  the  rest,  he  was  still,  to  the  fellows,  the 
tale-bearer.  But  in  this  he  was  not  altogether  correct, 
for  the  majority  of  boys  argued  that  any  chap  who 
could  display  the  qualities  that  Roy  had  shown  on  the 
football  field  must  of  necessity  be  all  right,  and  that 
if  he  had  told  on  Horace  and  Otto  and  the  others  he 
must  have  had  some  good  reason  for  it.  But  Roy 
could  n't  know  this,  and  so  he  was  rather  unresponsive 
through  it  all  and  held  himself  aloof  from  all  save 
Chub  and  Jack  Rogers  and  Tom  Forrest.  He  was  po- 
lite enough,  but  if  any  of  his  admirers  hoped  at  that 
time  to  make  friends  with  him  they  were  doomed  to 
disappointment.  But  there  was  still  another  that  Roy 
admitted  to  a  certain  degree  of  friendship,  and  that 
other  was  Sidney  Welch.  Sid  became  a  most  devoted 
admirer,  followed  Roy  about  like  an  amiable  puppy 
and  was  content  to  sit  and  watch  him  in  awed  admira- 
tion as  long  as  Roy  would  let  him.  Sid,  whose  over- 
whelming ambition  was  to  make  the  first  eleven  and 
aid  in  defeating  Hammond,  had  hero  worship  in  its 
most  virulent  form.  After  two  or  three  days  of  Sid's 
attention  Roy  got  so  that  he  would  dodge  out  of  sight 
when  he  saw  the  youngster  coming. 

It   required   some    bravery    on    Sid's   part    to    show 
open  admiration  for  Roy,   for  Horace  still  ruled  the 


100  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

school,  and  the  juniors  especially,  with  an  iron  hand, 
and  Sid  was,  as  he  well  knew,  courting  dire  punish- 
ment. But  it  was  a  time  of  open  revolt  against  Hor- 
ace's supremacy  and  Sid,  with  many  others,  escaped 
chastisement.  Horace  hated  Roy  worse  than  ever, 
hated  Tom  Forrest  because  that  youth  had  succeeded 
where  he  had  failed,  and,  now  that  he  had  nothing  to 
gain  by  seeming  friendliness  toward  the  football  cap- 
tain, even  threw  down  the  gauntlet  to  Jack  Rogers,  who, 
happy  as  a  clam  over  the  outcome  of  the  game  and 
over  the  receipt  of  a  letter  from  Johnny  King,  paid 
no  attention  to  Horace.  Otto  Ferris,  disgruntled  over 
his  failure  to  make  even  the  second  team  save  as  a 
substitute,  shared  Horace's  sentiments  with  enthusiasm 
and  aided  that  youth  to  the  best  of  his  ability  in  his 
efforts  to  discount  Roy's  triumph.  But  it  was  a  hard 
task  that  they  had  set  themselves,  for  Roy  had  won 
gratitude  as  well  as  admiration.  Ever  since  the  pre- 
vious autumn  when  Hammond  had  triumphed  un- 
fairly over  the  Ferry  Hill  eleven  the  school  had  looked 
forward  almost  breathlessly  to  revenge.  And  now  it 
was  in  no  mood  to  withhold  adulation  from  the  one  who 
had  secured  it  for  them.  And  so,  ere  a  week  had 
passed,  the  revolt  had  grown  to  well-defined  propor- 
tions. 

The  nucleus  of  the  anti-Burlen  camp  was  comprised 
of  Roy,  Chub,  Rogers,  Forrest  and  Sid,  for  at  the  end 
of  three  or  four  days  Sid  had  thrown  off  the  yoke. 
To  this  handful   of  revolters  came  others  as  the  days 


RED  HAIR  AND  WHITE  RABBITS  101 

passed;  Bacon,  the  quarter-back,  who  had  been  aimost 
the  first  to  wring  Roy's  hand  and  congratulate  him, 
Whitcomb,  Fernald  and  Post,  of  the  eleven,  and  a  few 
others.  There  were  no  open  hostilities  between  the  op- 
posing camps,  but  before  the  Christmas  vacation  ar- 
rived the  school  was  sharply  divided  and  every  fellow 
there  had  been  forced  to  take  sides  with  either  Horace 
or  Roy,  for  in  some  manner  Roy  had  come  to  be  con- 
sidered the  leader  of  the  opposing  force.  But  before 
this  other  things  had  happened  which  had  a  bearing 
on  the  matter. 

About  a  week  after  the  Hammond  game  Dr.  Emery 
arose  one  morning  after  breakfast,  at  which  time  it 
was  customary  for  him  to  make  announcements,  and 
said  that  he  wished  to  correct  an  erroneous  impression 
which  had  prevailed  for  some  time. 

"At  the  commencing  of  school  this  Fall,"  said  the 
Doctor,  absent-mindedly  polishing  his  glasses  with  a 
napkin,  "there  occurred  an  unpleasant  incident.  One 
of  the  new  boys  was  taken  from  his  bed  in  the  Senior 
Dormitory  by  a  number  of  the  older  boys  and  given 
a  bath  in  the  river.  As  hazing  has  always  been  pro- 
hibited at  Ferry  Hill  the  guilty  ones  were  promptly 
punished.  It  has  only  been  within  the  last  day  or  so 
that  I  have  learned  of  an  unfortunate  thing  in  connec- 
tion with  the  matter.  It  seems  that  the  student  who 
was  hazed  was  suspected  of  having  given  information 
leading  to  the  discovery  of  the  culprits.  As  a  result, 
I  am  informed,  this  student  has  until  very  recently— - 


102  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE 

in  fact  until  the  game  with  Hammond  Academy — been 
held  in  disgrace  by  his  fellows.  I  am  not  going  to  dis- 
cuss here  the  justice  or  injustice  of  the  attitude  as- 
sumed by  you ;  my  purpose  is  to  remove  the  stigma  of 
deceit  from  an  innocent  boy.  This  boy,  when  sum- 
moned before  me  the  morning  following  the  incident, 
declared  that  he  believed  he  knew  the  leader  of  the 
escapade,  having  recognized  his  voice.  The  identity  of 
the  others  he  did  not  know.  When  asked  for  the  name 
of  the  leader  he  declined  to  give  it.  And,  in  accordance 
with  our  custom,  he  was  not  pressed." 

A  suppressed  hum  of  applause  swept  over  the  din- 
ing hall.     Roy  stared  fixedly  at  a  salt-cellar. 

"Fortunately,"  continued  Doctor  Emery,  "the  in- 
structor in  charge  of  the  Junior  Dormitory,  Mr.  Buck- 
man,  happened,  to  be  awake  when  the  party  returned 
and  so  identified  most,  if  not  quite  all,  of  its  members. 
He  reported  the  matter  to  me,  as  he  was  required  to 
do,  and  I  meted  out  such  punishment  as  the  offense 
merited.  Naturally,  had  I  known  before  that  the  stu- 
dent was  being  made  to  suffer  I  would  have  made  this 
explanation  at  once.  As  it  was,  and  as  I  have  said, 
I  learned  of  it  only  yesterday,  and  then  not  from  one 
of  the  school,  from  whom,  it  would  seem,  information 
of  such  a  nature  should  come,  but  from  one  whom,  it 
appears,  has  the  welfare  of  the  school  closer  at  heart 
than  most  of  you,  my  daughter." 

"Bully  for  Harry!"  cried  Chub  quite  audibly. 
And    the    sentiment    met   with    instant    applause    that 


RED  HAIR  AND  WHITE  RABBITS 

grew  in  volume  until  the  instructors  commanded 
silence. 

"I  believe,"  went  on  Doctor  Emery,  with  a  slight 
smile,  "that  since  the  game  with  Hammond  Academy 
the  student  in  question  has  become  re-established  in  the 
respect  and — ah — affection  of  the  school."  (The  ap- 
plause threatened  again  to  drown  the  speaker.)  "And 
so  it  seems  scarcely  necessary  for  me  now  to  bespeak 
for  him  a  reversal  of  opinion. "  ("No,  sir!"  This  from 
the  irrepressible  Chub.)  "You  will,  I  am  sure,  each 
one  of  you,  wish  to  make  such  amends  as  possible  for 
your  former  treatment  of  him.  He,  I  trust,  holds  no 
resentment.  Indeed  such  a  sentiment  would  not  be- 
come him,  for,  while  his  refusal  to  try  to  put  him- 
self right  with  his  fellows  shows  a  certain  commend- 
able pride,  yet  it  was  hardly  fair  under  the  circum- 
stances. That  is  all,  I  think,  on  that  subject.  I  wish 
to  see  the  following  at  my  office  after  breakfast." 

Then  came  the  names  of  half  a  dozen  fellows, 
which  none,  barring,  possibly,  the  fellows  themselves, 
heard.  For  each  table — and  there  were  five  of  them — 
was  eagerly  discussing  the  news;  and  it  was  wonderful 
how  many  there  were  who  had  "known  all  along  that 
Porter  was  n  't  that  sort ! ' ' 

But  the  public  vindication,  while  it  disabused  the 
minds  of  a  few  who  still  doubted,  and  explained  what 
had  happened  to  those  who  had  already  ceased  to  blame 
Roy  in  the  matter,  did  not  bring  about  any  apparent 
difference   in  the   school's   treatment   of  him.     He   al- 


104  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE 

ready  stood  first  in  school  opinion  and  all  the  vindica- 
tion in  the  world  could  n't  have  placed  him  any  higher. 
He  had  won  the  game  from  Hammond;  that  was  suffi- 
cient for  most  fellows. 

In  view  of  Doctor  Emery's  disclosure  you  have  al- 
ready found  me  guilty  of  having  neglected  to  enumer- 
ate with  Roy's  adherents  one  of  the  staunchest  and 
most  important.  For  it  was  no  little  thing  to  have 
Harry  on  your  side,  even  if  she  was  only  a  fourteen- 
year-old  girl;  and  that  has  been  proved  already  and 
will  be  again  before  the  story  is  at  an  end.  But  it 
was  unfortunate  that  Harry's  good  offices  should  have 
led  to  an  estrangement  between  her  and  Roy. 

It  all  came  about  in  quite  the  most  unforeseen  man- 
ner. Roy  had  promised  to  play  tennis  with  her  the 
afternoon  of  Doctor  Emery's  announcement.  They 
had  had  quite  a  few  contests  already  and  Harry  had 
proved  herself  more  than  a  match  for  Roy.  To-day 
they  met  outside  the  cottage,  Harry  bringing  her  own 
racquet  and  one  for  Roy,  since  tennis  had  scarcely  been 
included  in  his  education  and  he  possessed  no  racquet 
of  his  own.  Unfortunately  Roy  started  the  conversa- 
tion by  accusing  Harry  of  having  broken  her  promise. 
That  was  an  awful  accusation  to  bring  against  her, 
since  she  had  an  almost  quixotic  regard  for  the  given 
word.  Stung,  she  made  no  effort  to  set  herself  right, 
only  declared  sullenly  that  she  had  done  no  such  thing. 
Roy  had  not  greatly  cared,  but  her  curt  denials  aroused 
his  impatience. 


EED  HAIE  AND  WHITE  EABBITS  105 

"But,  Harry,"  he  protested,  "you  must  have!  He 
said  so ! " 

"I  did  n't!    I  did  n't!    I  did  n't!" 

"But,  Harry,  that  's  nonsense,  you  know." 

"I  did  n't  break  my  promise,"  she  answered  an- 
grily. 

"Well,  then  I  'd  just  like  to  know  how  he  found 
out.  Of  course  I  don't  care  much  if  you  did  tell  him, 
only — " 

"You  Ve  just  as  good  as  said  I  've  told  a  lie!" 
cried  Harry,  turning  suddenly  with  reddening  cheeks." 

"I  have  n't,  Harry." 

"You  have,  too!  So!  And  you — you  're  very  im- 
polite!" 

"Oh,  pshaw,  there  's  no  use  in  getting  mad  about  it. 
I  only  said—" 

"I  '11  get  mad  if  I  want  to,"  said  Harry  hotly. 
"And  I  guess  I  can  keep  a  promise  as  well  as  you  can. 
You  're  just  stuck-up  because  you  made  that  old  touch- 
down ! ' ' 

"I   'm  not!" 

"You  are!" 

"My,  what  a  temper!  Just  what  you  'd  expect  of 
a  girl  with  red  hair!     "Why,  I  would  n't—" 

But  he  stopped  there,  for  Harry's  face  went  sud- 
denly white  with  rage  and  she  gasped  as  though  he 
had  struck  her. 

"Now  look  here,  Harry,"  he  began  contritely.  But 
Harry  had  found  her  tongue  and  he  got  no  farther. 


106  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

' '  Oh,  you  coward  ! ' '  she  cried,  trembling.  ' '  You — 
you  beast!  I  know  my  hair  's  red,  and  I  don't  care 
if  it  is !  And,  anyway,  I  'd  rather  have  it  red  than 
just  no  color  at  all,  like — like  a  fish!" 

"Harry,  I  did  n't  mean — " 

"Don't  you  speak  to  me  again,  ever  and  ever!  I 
don't  want  to  see  you!  I  hate  you,  hate  you,  hate 
you,  Roy  Porter,  and  I  '11  never  speak  to  you  again 
as  long  as  I  live ! ' ' 

"Oh,  if  you  want  to  be  nasty  about  it,"  muttered 
Roy. 

But  Harry  had  turned  and  was  running  swiftly 
along  the  path,  trying  her  best  to  keep  back  the  angry 
tears  that  threatened  every  moment  to  disgrace  her. 
Roy  watched  her  go,  whistled  softly,  and  then  followed 
slowly  after. 

' '  What  a  little  spit-fire ! "  he  muttered  with  a  laugh 
that  was  half  angry  and  half  regretful.  "I  don't  see 
what  I  said,  anyhow,  except  that  her  hair  was  red. 
And  it  is,  as  red  as  fire !  If  she  wants  to  stay  mad 
she  may  for  all  I  care." 

And  then,  two  days  later,  there  occurred  an  incident 
which  still  further  widened  the  breach  between  them. 

Mr.  Buckman  opened  his  desk  in  Room  B  in  School 
Hall  and  stared  in  amazement.  It  was  the  first  recita- 
tion and  the  class  in  geometry  watched  interestedly. 
The  instructor  held  forth  a  white  rabbit  in  each  hand. 

"Who  put  these  in  here?"     he   demanded  sternly. 

There  was  no  answer.  The  class  was  smiling  broadly, 


RED  HAIR  AND  WHITE  RABBITS  107 

but  Mr.  Buckman's  expression  prohibited  the  laughter 
they  longed  to  indulge  in. 

f'It  was  a  very  funny  joke/'  continued  Mr.  Buck- 
man  scathingly,  "only,  unfortunately,  one  of  the  rab- 
bits has  been  stupid  enough  to  die  and  so  is  unable  to 
appreciate  it.  The  other  one  appears  to  be  on  the  point 
of  dying.  I  presume  that  they  belong  to  Miss  Harriet. 
[  fancy  she  will  appreciate  the  joke  heartily.  I  hope  to 
be  able  to  discover  the  perpetrator  of  the  delicate  jest, 
in  which  case  he  will  undoubtedly  get  all  the  applause 
he  desires. " 

Mr.  Buckman  bore  the  rabbits  out  of  the  room  and 
the  class,  much  soberer,  looked  questioningly  about 
and  whispered  inquiries.  But  everyone  professed  igno- 
rance on  the  subject. 

"Ought  to  have  his  head  punched,  whoever  he  is," 
growled  Chub  to  Roy.     And  the  latter  heartily  agreed. 

When  the  class  was  dismissed  Harry  was  waiting, 
with  a  white  face  and  blazing  eyes,  in  the  corridor. 
She  made  for  Roy  instantly. 

"They  're  both  dead,"  she  cried,  "and  I  hope 
you  're  satisfied.  Of  all  nasty,  mean  things  to  do,  Roy 
Porter,  that  's  the  very  meanest !  I  should  think  you  'd 
be  ashamed  of  yourself!  I  should  think  you  'd  be 
ashamed  to  look  at  me!" 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  protested  Roy 
earnestly.     "I   'm  awfully  sorry,  Harry,  honest!" 

"Do  you  think  I  believe  that?"  demanded  Harry, 
brushing  aside  the  tears  that  would  leak  out  in  spite 


108  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

of  her.  "You  did  it  to  get  even  with  me,  I  know 
you  did!  I  don't  care  what  you  do  to  me,  but  it  was 
cowardly  to  kill  my  poor  rabbits ! ' ' 

"Harry,  I  give  you  my  word — I" 

' '  I  don 't  want  your  word !  I  would  n  't  believe  you, 
Roy  Porter !    You  're  a  mean,  contemptible  thing ! ' ' 

"Oh,  very  well,"  said  Roy  angrily,  walking  away. 
' '  You  can  think  whatever  you  like ;  I  don 't  care  ! ' ' 

But  he  did  care,  nevertheless. 

After  dinner  he  spent  a  few  minutes  in  the  office, 
but  his  straightforward  denial  convinced  Doctor  Emery 
of  his  innocence.  The  affair  remained  a  mystery,  al- 
though Chub  professed  to  have  no  doubts  in  the  matter. 

"Nobody  but  Horace  would  think  of  such  a  thing," 
he  asserted.  "And  if  Harry  had  any  sense  she  'd 
know  it." 

But  Harry  was  apparently  firmly  convinced  of  Roy's 
guilt  and  all  he  received  from  that  young  lady  during 
the  next  week  was  black  looks. 

Meanwhile  an  event  of  much  interest  to  the  school 
was  approaching  and  the  incident  of  the  white  rabbits 
was  soon  forgotten  by  it.  Every  year,  on  the  afternoon 
of  Thanksgiving  Day,  was  held  the  Cross  Country  Run. 
There  was  a  cup  for  the  individual  winner  and  a  cup 
for  the  class  five  of  whose  entries  finished  first.  Ferry 
Hill  had  developed  cross  country  running  into  some- 
thing of  a  science.  The  annual  event  always  awakened 
much  interest  and  the  rivalry  between  the  four  classes 
was  intense. 


EED  HAIR  AND  WHITE  RABBITS  109 

There  were  no  handicaps,  all  entries  starting  to- 
gether from  the  steps  of  the  gymnasium,  taking  off 
north-east  for  three  miles  to  the  village  of  Carroll, 
from  there  to  a  neighboring  settlement  called  Find- 
layburg  and  so  home  by  the  road  to  the  gymnasium, 
a  total  distance  of  six  miles.  At  Carroll  and  Findlay- 
burg  they  were  registered  by  the  instructors.  In  def- 
erence to  the  cross  country  event  Thanksgiving  dinner 
was  postponed  until  evening.  It  was  customary  for 
the  football  players  to  remain  in  training  for  the  run, 
and  this  year  they  had  all  done  so  with  the  exception 
of  Forrest,  Gallup  and  Burlen,  whose  weights  kept 
them  out  of  the  contest.  No  one  was  prohibited  from 
entering  and  even  the  youngest  boy  in  school  was  down 
for  the  start.  One  year  the  junior  cla,ss  had  captured 
the  cup  and  ever  since  then  succeeding  junior  classes 
had  striven  mightily. 

As  always  there  were  favorites,  and  this  year  Chub, 
Roy  and  a  Middle  Class  boy  named  Townsend  were 
considered  to  have  the  best  chances.  Roy  himself 
was  doubtful  of  his  prowess,  for,  while  he  could 
sprint  and  even  do  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  good  time, 
he  had  never  tried  long-distance  running.  But 
Chub  gave  him  a  lot  of  good  advice,  assured  him  that 
he  stood  a  good  chance  to  win  and  ended  up  with: 
"Anyhow,  it  's  the  best  training  in  the  world  and  will 
do  you  a  whole  lot  of  good  even  if  you  don't  get  the 
cup."  So  for  a  week  preceding  the  day  of  the  con- 
test the  countryside  was  sprinkled  with  boys  panting 


110  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

up  the  hills,  loping  through  the  woods  and  trotting  dog- 
gedly aloDg  the  frosty  road.  And  at  two  o'clock  on 
Thanksgiving  Day  afternoon  thirty-four  boys  awaited  the 
word  in  front  of  the  gymnasium. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  CROSS-COUNTRY  RACE 

THERE  were  boys  of  all  ages  between  twelve  and 
eighteen  in  the  group  which  awaited  the  word 
from  Horace  Burlen.  And  there  were  all  kinds  and  de- 
scriptions of  costumes.  It  was  a  frosty  nippy  day, 
cloudy  and  with  occasional  gusts  of  wind,  but  neverthe- 
less several  of  the  runners  wore  cotton  running  trunks 
and  short  stockings,  and  the  expanse  of  bare  leg  be- 
tween hose  and  trunk  required  lots  of  rubbing  and 
slapping  to  keep  the  blood  in  circulation.  Others  were 
warmly  attired  in  knickerbockers  and  sweaters.  Roy 
had  taken  Chub's  advice  in  the  matter  of  apparel,  and 
wore  short  trousers,  woolen  stockings,  his  crimson 
sweater  and  a  pair  of  spiked  running  shoes.  Chub 
was  similarly  dressed,  as  was  Jack  Rogers  and  a  num- 
ber of  others.  The  Juniors  had  evolved  a  wonderful 
plan  whereby  certain  of  their  runners  were  to  save 
themselves  until  the  final  turn  toward  home  and  were 
then  to  pitch  in  and  beat  everything  in  sight,  and 
they  were  gathered  in  a  group  plotting  excitedly  in 
whispers.      Sid   Welch   was   asking   every   fellow    who 

ill 


112  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

would  pay  attention  to  him  whether  he  thought  he 
could  last  through  the  race.  Sid  had  worn  off  eight 
pounds  during  the  football  season,  but  had  already  be- 
gun, greatly  to  his  despair,  to  put  them  back  again. 
Chub  told  him  that  if  he  'd  run  the  last  part  of  the 
race  backwards  he  might  finish— some  day.  And  Jack 
assured  him  that  they  would  see  that  dinner  was  kept 
warm  for  him. 

"I  'm  going  to  keep  with  you  fellows,"  said  Sid,  "if 
you  don't  mind."  And  he  glanced  devotedly  toward 
Roy. 

"You  honor  us,"  answered  Chub  with  a  low  bow. 
"Just  keep  right  alongside  Roy  and  if  he  tries  to  run 
away  from  you  make  him  take  your  hand.  What  do 
you  weigh  now,  Sid?" 

"Find  out,"  answered   Sid  impolitely. 

Whereupon  Chub  tried  to  catch  him  and  Sid  led  him 
a  wild  chase  through  the  crowd,  finally  seeking  pro- 
tection behind  Roy.  Roy,  however,  refused  to  be 
drawn  into  the  affair  and  Sid  was  duly  made  to  apol- 
ogize for  his  cheek.  By  that  time  Horace  was  giving 
instructions  again. 

"The  course  is  the  same  as  last  year,"  he  announced. 
"At  Carroll  you  must  give  your  names  to  Mr.  Cobb, 
who  will  be  on  the  porch  of  the  Windsor  House 
and  at  Findlayburg  you  must  give  them  to  Mr. 
Buckman  at  the  corner  store.  The  finish  will  be  at 
the  gate  here.  No  fellow  whose  name  does  n't  show 
on  both  Mr.  Cobb's  and  Mr.  Buckman 's  list  will  stand 
any  show,  so  you  want  to  be  sure  you  get  checked.    All 


THE  CEOSS-COUNTRY  RACE  113 

ready  now,  fellows.  Get  back  of  the  gravel  there, 
Townsend  and  Young.    Are  you  ready?     Go!" 

The  throng  moved  forward  at  a  trot,  pushed  and 
scrambled  through  the  gate  and  went  across  the  field. 
At  the  farther  side  was  the  first  obstacle,  a  high  rail 
fence,  and  Sid  had  his  first  mishap  there  at  the  outset. 
He  reached  the  top  of  the  fence  beautifully  and  then 
deliberately  fell  over  on  the  other  side  into  a  mass  of 
brush  and  wayside  weeds.  Chub  paused  to  pull  him 
out  and  put  him  on  his  feet  again  and  Roy  waited  for 
them.  As  a  consequence,  when  they  had  crossed  the 
road,  surmounted  a  stone  wall  and  had  begun  to 
breast  the  long  slope  of  meadow  on  the  other  side  the 
three  were  well  toward  the  rear  of  the  crowd.  By  the 
time  the  hill-top  was  reached  the  field  of  runners  was 
well  spread  out  and  not  a  few  of  the  younger  boys  were 
already  losing  interest  in  the  affair.  Jack  Rogers  was 
well  toward  the  front  now  and  Chub  suggested  to  Roy 
that  they  close  up  with  him.  So  there  was  a  little 
sprint  along  the  ridge  of  the  hill  and  they  soon  found 
themselves  alongside  Jack  and  with  barely  a  half-dozen 
runners  ahead  of  them.  But  the  sprint  had  played 
havoc  with  Sid's  wind  and  he  was  puffing  like  a  young 
porpoise. 

"Slow  work  so  far,"  called  Jack. 

"Why  don't  you  set  the  pace  awhile?"  asked  Chub. 

"I  '11  take  it  through  the  woods,"  Jack  answered,  "if 
you  '11  take  it  from  there  to  the  village." 

"All  right.  Say,  Sid,  you  'd  better  drop  our  ac- 
quaintance   now.      You    've    done    beautifully    and    I 


114  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

would  n't  be  surprised  if  you  came  in  pretty  near 
first — counting  backward.  But  you  don't  want  to 
overdo  it  at  the  start,  you  know." 

Sid  shot  a  doubting  and  suspicious   glance  at  him, 
shook  his  head  and  puffed  on. 

Now  that  he  had  got  his  second  wind,  Roy  found 
it  exhilarating,  this  trotting  up  and  down  the  slopes 
in  the  cold  November  afternoon.  There  was  a  fine  glow 
in  his  face,  the  gusts  of  cold  wind  that  met  him  now 
and  then  felt  good  as  they  ruffled  his  hair  and  the  half- 
frozen  turf  offered  firm  hold  to  his  spikes.  He  would 
have  liked  to  speed  ahead  and  try  conclusions  with 
the  Middle  Class  boy  who  was  in  the  lead,  for  he  was 
not  in  the  least  tired  and  felt  now  as  though  he  could 
run  for  weeks.  But  they  had  covered  only  a  scant 
mile  and  three-quarters,  according  to  Chub,  and  that 
meant  plenty  of  hard  work  ahead.  Down  a  hillside 
sprinkled  with  rocks  and  low  bushes  they  went,  forded 
a  sandy  stream,  scrambled  over  a  tumbledown  wall  and 
entered  the  woods.  Here  Jack,  with  a  sprint,  took  the 
lead  and  made  fast  going.  For  the  first  hundred 
yards  it  was  difficult  work,  but  after  that  they  found 
themselves  on  a  grass-grown  road  which  wound  and 
twisted  about  over  stumps  and  fallen  logs.  Many  a 
youth  took  a  cropper  hereabouts,  and  among  them  was 
Sid.  "When  Roy  saw  him  last  he  was  sitting  on  a 
rotted  tree  which  had  proved  his  Waterloo  sadly  watch- 
ing the  procession  go  by.    And  a  procession  it  was  by 


THE  CROSS-COUNTRY  RACE  115 

this  time,  for  the  runners  were  strung  out  in  single 
file  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 

Roy  and  Chub  were  running  fourth  and  fifth  as  they 
left  the  woods  and  found  themselves  on  the  edge  of  a 
wheat  field  with  the  church  tower  of  Carroll  a  half 
a  mile  away.  Jack  dropped  back  and  Chub  took  his 
place  at  the  head  of  the  line.  It  seemed  to  Roy  that 
Chub  let  up  on  the  pace  a  little,  but  it  may  have  been 
only  that  it  was  easier  going  here  along  the  edge  of 
the  field.  At  all  events,  Roy  was  glad  of  it,  for  the 
work  was  beginning  to  tell  on  him.  And  he  was  still 
gladder  when  Chub,  at  the  corner  of  the  field,  leaped 
the  wall  and  went  trotting  down  a  lane  and  from  there 
into  a  country  road.  In  another  minute  or  two  they 
were  jogging  along  the  village  street  and  Roy  could 
see  Mr.  Cobb,  paper  and  pencil  in  hand,  on  the  steps 
of  the  old  brown  hotel  near  at  hand.  Quite  a  little 
group  had  formed  about  him  and  the  runners  swept 
along  to  a  chorus  of  criticisms,  laughter  and  applause. 
As  they  passed  Mr.  Cobb,  they  cried  their  names  and 
were  answered ; 

"Eaton!" 

"Eaton!"  And  the  instructor  cheeked  the  name  on 
the  list  he  held. 

"Pryor!" 

"Pryor!" 

"Townsend!" 

"Townsend!" 


116  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"Rogers!" 

"Rogers!" 

"Porter!" 

"Porter!" 

"How  are  we  making  it?"  sang  out  Jack  as.  he 
passed. 

' '  A  minute  and  a  fraction  behind  the  record ! ' '  was 
the  reply. 

"Hit  it  up,  Chub!"  shouted  Jack. 

"Go  to  the  dickens!"  answered  Chub.  "Who  wants 
the  lead?" 

"I  '11  take  it,"  Pryor  replied. 

"All  right."     And  Chub  dropped  back  to  Roy. 

"Minute  and  a  fraction — be  hanged!"  he  gasped. 
"I  '11  bet — we  're  right  on — time!  How  you  coming?" 
»  "Getting  tuckered,"  answered  Roy.  "How  much 
farther?" 

"Not  quite — three  miles.  Ouch!  Stepped  on — fool 
stone!" 

"Better  save  your  wind,  you  two,"  advised  Jack. 

"Wish  I  had  some  to  save,"  thought  Roy. 

Then  there  occurred  the  first  division  in  the  ranks. 
Pryor  left  the  road  and  scrambled  over  into  a  field. 
Jack,  Chub  and  Roy  followed,  but  Townsend  kept  to 
the  road  and  others  as  they  came  up  followed  him. 

"What    's  the  matter— with  the  road?"  asked  Roy. 

"Longer,"  Chub  answered  briefly. 

They  jogged  up  a  steep  hill,  turning  to  the  right  at 
the  top  and  then  went  down  at  a  brisker  pace,  Roy 


THE  CROSS-COUNTRY  RACE  117 

wishing  his  sweater  was  n't  quite  so  heavy.  All  the 
spring  had  gone  from  his  feet  now  and  the  exhilaration 
was  forgotten.  It  was  just  hard  work.  The  downward 
slope  lasted  for  quite  a  way  and  Roy  judged  that 
Pryor  was  letting  himself  out  in  the  hope  of  reaching 
the  road  again  before  the  others  who  had  kept  to  it 
arrived.  There  was  a  bad  bit  of  brush  to  struggle 
through,  and  then  came  the  wall  and  the  road.  As 
they  climbed  over  they  looked  backward,  but  only  a 
farmer's  wagon  was  in  sight. 

''Beat  'em!"  gasped  Chub. 

On  the  road  they  slowed  down  considerably  and  Roy 
gave  silent  thanks.  He  knew  now  that  he  would  never 
be  able  to  keep  up  with  Chub  and  the  others,  but  he 
was  determined  to  stick  it  out  as  long  as  he  could. 
Presently  a  little  group  of  buildings  came  into  sight 
ahead;  a  store,  a  blacksmith  shop,  a  tumble-down  shed 
and  three  houses.  Mr.  Buckman  was  awaiting  them  in 
front  of  the  store,  supported  by  the  storekeeper  and  a 
handful  of  loungers. 

' '  Are  we  ahead  ? ' '  shouted  Pryor  as  they  came  up. 

"Yes,   and   ahead   of  the  record,"   was   the  answer. 

"All  right,  Pryor.  All  right,  Rogers,  Eaton  and 
Porter." 

Then  they  were  past,  trotting  along  a  frosty,  rutted 
country  road. 

"Anyone  want  the  lead?"   grunted  Pryor. 

"How  about  you,  Roy?"  asked  Jack. 

But  Roy  shook  his  head   dumbly  and   Chub  moved 


118  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

up  to  the  head  of  the  group.  The  wind  had  increased 
and  was  blowing  icily  out  of  the  northeast,  but  it  was 
almost  behind  them  and  so  helped  them  along.  Pryor 
nodded  towards  a  dead  beech  tree  beside  the  road.  Jack 
nodded  back. 

"Two  miles  more,"  he  said. 

"Road  or  hill?"  asked  Chub,  looking  around  a 
moment. 

"Don't  care,"  answered  Pryor. 

"Hill,"  said  Jack. 

At  a  turn  of  the  road  Chub  left  it  to  the  right  and 
the  others  followed. 

"Is  this — shorter?"  asked  Roy. 

"About — even  thing,   I  think,"  answered  Pryor. 

"A  whole  minute  shorter,"  said  Jack. 

Roy  sighed  for  the  road  as  he  dragged  his  feet  up 
a  little  hill  and  saw  before  him  a  rough  bit  of  country 
in  which  rocks  and  stunted  bushes  sprang  everywhere. 
For  the  next  quarter  of  a  mile  they  were  always  either 
going  up  hill  or  going  down;  level  ground  was  not  on 
the  map  thereabouts.  Jack  took  the  lead  again  pres- 
ently and  Chub  fell  back  to  where  Roy  was  heroically 
striving  to  keep  his  place.  At  last  Roy  stumbled  over 
a  root,  went  head  over  heels  into  a  clump  of  bushes, 
and  sat  up  with  the  last  bit  of  breath  knocked  out 
of  him.  Chub  had  stopped,  grinning.  Roy  shook  his 
head  and  waved  his  hand  for  the  other  to  go  on. 

"Hurt?"  asked  Chub  anxiously. 

Roy  shook  his  head,  found  a  little  breath  and  gasped : 


THE  CROSS-COUNTEY  RACE  119 

"I  'm— all  right.  Go  ahead.  I  '11— follow— pres- 
ently." 

Chub  glanced  hesitatingly  from  Roy  to  the  others. 
Then  he  nodded  and  went  on.  At  a  little  distance  he 
turned,  waved  a  hand  to  the  right  and  shouted  something 
about  the  road.  Roy  nodded  indifferently  and  then 
fell  back  onto  the  turf  and  did  n't  care  a  rap  what  hap- 
pened. It  was  blissful  just  to  lie  there,  stretch  his 
aching  legs  and  get  his  breath  back.  Anyone  who 
wanted  that  dinkey  pewter  mug  could  have  it,  as  far 
as  he  cared.  Only— well,  he  did  wish  he  could  have 
finished !  Then  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  could,  that 
if  he  went  on  he  might  even  finish  well  up  on  the  list. 
He  judged  that  five  minutes  had  passed  since  the  others 
had  left  him.  He  already  felt  better  and  had  regained 
his  wind  remarkably.  Well,  he  'd  just  go  on  and  have 
a  try;  maybe  he  could  help  win  the  mug  for  the  Sec- 
ond Seniors.  So  he  climbed  to  his  feet  and  set  off  in 
the  direction  taken  by  Chub. 

But  a  minute  or  so  later  he  concluded  that  he  had 
lost  the  way,  for  now  the  wind  instead  of  being  behind 
him  was  coming  against  his  left  cheek.  Of  course  the 
wind  might  have  swung  around,  but  it  was  much  more 
probable  that  he  had  unconsciously  borne  to  the  left. 
The  best  thing  to  do,  he  thought,  was  to  get  back  to 
the  road,  which  was  somewhere  in  the  direction  he  was 
going.  So  he  pushed  on,  his  trot  becoming  a  walk  as 
the  bushes  grew  thicker  and  thicker  about  him.  Ten 
minutes,  fifteen  minutes  passed  and  he  had  found  no 


I 


120  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

road.  Up  and  down  little  hills  he  went,  across  open 
stretches  and  through  tangles  of  leafless  bushes.  He 
kept  the  wind  against  his  left  cheek  and  went  on.  It 
was  getting  toward  twilight  and  was  still  cloudy  and 
cold.  His  legs  began  to  feel  stiff  and  his  feet  would 
drag  in  spite  of  him.  A  half  an  hour  must  have 
passed — he  had  left  his  watch  at  school  and  so  could 
only  guess — and  he  was  still  travelling  over  wind-swept 
upland.  He  began  to  feel  a  bit  uncomfortable ;  the 
prospect  of  spending  the  night  up  there  was  n't  en- 
ticing. Observing  a  little  bush-crowned  hill  that  looked 
higher  than  any  he  had  yet  found,  he  made  his  way 
to  it.  From  the  top  he  could  perhaps  see  the  road, 
or,  failing  that,  discover  where  the  river  lay. 

So  he  climbed  up  the  rise,  his  feet  slipping  over  loose 
gravel.  At  the  top  he  paused  and  looked  about  him. 
There  was  no  road  to  be  seen,  but  behind  him  were 
a  few  twinkling  lights,  perhaps  a  mile  away,  and — 
yes,  surely,  that  was  the  river  over  there,  that  ribbon 
of  steely-gray !  He  would  get  to  the  river,  he  decided, 
at  its  nearest  point  and  then  follow  along  the  bank 
until  he  found  the  school,  if  he  did  not  stumble  across 
a  road  or  a  house  or  something  before  that.  So  he  got 
the  direction  firmly  fixed  in  his  mind,  broke  through 
the  bushes  in  front  of  him,  gave  a  cry  of  terror,  grasped 
ineffectually  at  the  branches  and  went  plunging,  crash- 
ing downward  to  lie  in  a  silent,  motionless  heap  thirty 
feet  below. 


CHAPTER  XI 

HAEEY  FINDS  A  CLUE 

WHEN  Chub  left  Roy  lying  gasping  for  breath  in 
the  bushes  and  took  up  the  race  again  he  was  a  good 
hundred  yards  behind  Jack  and  Pryor,  who  were  just 
dropping  from  sight  beyond  the  brow  of  one  of  the 
little  hills. 

"Keep  over  that  way— get  back  to  the  road,"  he 
turned  and  shouted.  He  saw  Roy  nod  wearily.  Then 
he  set  out  in  earnest  to  make  up  lost  ground.  That 
was  the  hardest  bit  of  the  whole  run  for  Chub  and  it 
took  him  the  better  part  of  a  mile  to  make  up  that 
hundred  yards.  Jack  and  Pryor  did  their  level  best 
to  maintain  their  advantage.  But  when  they  were  back 
on  the  road  once  more  Chub  was  running  even  with 
them.  Pryor  tried  to  slip  aside  and  make  him  take 
the  lead  and  set  the  pace,  but  Chub  was  too  wary.  It 
could  scarcely  be  called  running  now,  for  with  less 
than  a  mile  to  go  it  became  a  question  with  each  one 
of  them  whether  they  could  stay  on  their  feet  long 
enough  to  finish  and  their  pace  was  a  slow  jog  that  was 
little  like  the  springy  gait  with  which  they  had  started 
out. 

There  was  no  breath  wasted  now  in  talk.  They  cast 
quick  looks  at  each  other,  searching  for  signs  of  weak- 

121 


122  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

ness  and  discouragement.  It  was  every  man  for  him- 
self, Pryor  struggling  along  with  drooping  head  for 
the  glory  of  the  Middle  Class,  Jack  resolved  to  win  the 
honor  for  the  First  Seniors,  and  Chub  equally  deter- 
mined to  gain  it  for  the  Second  Seniors.  A  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  the  school,  just  as  they  turned  into  the  Sil- 
ver Cove  road,  Pryor 's  time  came.  He  faltered  once, 
stumbled,  and  Chub  turning  aside  to  avoid  him,  slowed 
down  to  a  walk,  his  breath  coming  in  agonized  gasps. 
Chub  and  Jack  went  on  without  a  turn  of  the  head, 
side  by  side,  their  eyes  glued  doggedly  on  the  red-tiled 
tower  of  the  gymnasium  visible  now  above  the  tree-tops 
a  few  hundred  yards  away.  Then  the  road  turned  a 
bit  and  a  group  of  waiting  boys  marked  the  corner  of 
the  school  grounds. 

Chub  looked  at  Jack  and  the  latter  shook  his  head 
with  a  wry  twisted  smile.  But  when  Chub  threw  his 
head  back  and  strove  to  draw  away  from  him  Jack 
responded  gallantly  and  refused  to  own  himself  beaten. 
So  they  had  it  nip  and  tuck  down  to  the  corner,  pound- 
ing the  hard  road  like  cart  horses  and  yet  making  but 
slow  work  of  it,  while  the  audience  shouted  them  on, 
scattering  away  from  the  rail  fence  that  they  might 
have  plenty  of  room.  And  they  needed  it.  Twice  Chub 
strove  to  throw  his  leg  across  the  topmost  bar  and 
twice  he  failed.  Jack,  with  set  teeth,  got  over  on  the 
second  attempt,  and  when  Chub  came  tumbling  after 
him  he  had  a  good  six  yards  of  lead.  Ahead,  at  the  gate 
across  the  field,  stood  Doctor  and  Mrs  Emery  and  Harry. 

"Hurry!     Hurry!"     cried   the   latter,    dancing  ex- 


HARRY  FINDS  A  CLUE  123 

citedly  about.  ' '  Oh,  it  's  Jack  Rogers  and  Chub  Eaton  ! 
Hurry,  Jack!  Hurry,  Chub!  Oh,  can't  you  run 
faster?" 

"Which  do  you  want  to  win,  my  dear?"  asked  her 
mother  smilingly.  Harry  answered  breathlessly  with- 
out turning. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!    Both!" 

Meanwhile  across  the  gridiron  Chub  and  Jack,  accom- 
panied by  applauding  friends  and  partisans,  were  fight- 
ing it  out  gamely.  Chub  had  almost  made  up  the  dis- 
tance between  him  and  Jack  when  the  track  was 
reached.  Across  the  cinders  they  staggered,  the  gate 
and  finish  but  a  few  yards  away.  Then  fortune,  thus 
far  quite  impartial,  turned  her  face  to  Chub.  Jack 
stumbled  on  the  wooden  rim  of  the  track  and,  while  he 
saved  himself  from  falling,  gave  Chub  his  chance,  and 
in  another  second  the  latter  youth  was  through  the  gate 
and  lying  with  tossing  arms  on  the  lawn.  Jack  finished 
a  scant  yard  behind  him  and  keeled  over  in  his  turn. 

Horace  Burlen  set  down  the  times  on  the  list  he  held 
and  others  sprang  to  the  aid  of  the  exhausted  runners. 
Then  all  eyes  turned  again  toward  the  corner  of  the  field, 
for  someone  was  struggling  over  the  fence  there.  Down 
he  jumped  and  came  trotting  across,  apparently  much 
fresher  than  Chub  and  Jack.  It  was  Townsend,  of  the 
Middle  Class.  "When  he  was  half  way  across  the  field 
a  fourth  runner  appeared,  made  several  attempts  to 
surmount  the  bars,  leaned  against  them  a  moment,  and 
found  his  breath  and  then  came  over. 

"It   's  Pryor,"  said  Horace.     "That   's  two  for  the 


124  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

Middlers,    and    one    each    for    the    First    and    Second 
Seniors."    . 

"What  was  Chub  Eaton's  time?"  asked  Forrest  as 
Townsend  finished. 

.  "Four  and  three-eighths  minutes  better  than  the  rec- 
ord made  four  years  ago  by  Gooch,"  answered  Horace. 

"Weil,  I  'm  glad  Roy  Porter  did  n't  win,"  said 
Harry  vindictively.     Chub  rolled  over  on  his  elbows. 

"He  went  down  and  out — two  miles  back,"  said  Chub. 
He  looked  across  at  Jack,  who  was  sitting  up  and  breath- 
ing like  a  steam-engine.  "Sorry  I  beat  you,  Jack.  I 
would  n't  have  if  you  had  n't  stumbled." 

Jack  nodded  with  a  smile. 

"Glad  you  won,  old  man,"  he  said.  "It  was  a  tough 
old  run,  and  you  can  bet  I  'm  glad  it  's  over.  Phew ! 
but  I  'm  tuckered." 

' '  Same  here.  That  last  mile  was  the  dickens.  There  's 
someone  else  coming — two,  three  of  them  !  One  of  'em  's 
fallen  off  the  fence.  Gee !  I  thought  I  'd  never  get 
over  that  thing!"  He  got  up,  followed  by  Jack,  and 
passed  through  the  gate.  "Hello,  Townsend!  How  was 
the  road?" 

"Rutty  as  anything  and  mighty  hard  running.  I  got 
a  stitch  in  my  side  about  a  mile  back  and  had  to  let  up 
for  a  while.  Passed  Pryor  moseying  along  down  near 
the  corner.    Who  's  that  coming?" 

' '  Porter,  by  Jove  ! ' '  cried  Chub. 

"Porter  nothing!"  said  Horace.  "That  's  Warrem 
And  the  next  two  are  Glidden  and  Chase.     That  makes 


HAEEY  FINDS  A  CLUE  125 

First  and  Second  Seniors  and  Middlers  tied  for  first 
so  far.    Chase  is  a  Junior,  is  n't  he?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Townsend. 

Chase,  a  youngster  of  thirteen,  made  a  plucky  race 
across  the  field  and  beat  Glidden  of  the  Second  Senior 
Class  by  three  yards.  Then  for  a  while  no  more  fin- 
ished. Chub  and  Jack  and  the  others  disappeared  into 
the  gymnasium,  and  Doctor  and  Mrs.  Emery  returned 
to  the  Cottage.  Harry,  however,  still  remained.  It  was 
getting  dim  now,  and  when,  after  five  or  six  minutes 
had  passed,  more  runners  reached  the  fence  it  was  im- 
possible to  identify  them.  But  when  they  drew  near  a 
shout  went  up.  Two  of  them  were  First  Seniors,  one 
was  a  Middler  and  one  a  Junior.  The  First  Seniors 
needed  but  one  more  runner  now  to  give  them  the  cup. 
And  a  few  minutes  later  he  came  in  the  person  of  Bacon 
and  received  the  biggest  sort  of  a  welcome.  From  then 
on  until  almost  dinner  time  the  others  straggled  in  to 
find  the  finish  deserted  and  to  crawl  weariedly  up  the 
gymnasium  steps.  Harry  had  taken  her  departure  when 
Bacon  had  finished,  returning  to  the  Cottage  through  the 
gathering  twilight,  looking,  unless  her  face  belied  her, 
rather  disappointed,  and  telling  herself  over  and  over 
that  she  was  awfully  glad  Roy  Porter  had  n't  won. 

Dinner  that  evening  was  a  jolly  meal.  Every  fellow 
was  frantically  hungry  for  his  turkey  and  sweet  pota- 
toes and  mince  pie  and  the  appropriate  "trimmings." 
The  First  Seniors  drank  their  sweet  cider  out  of  the 
mug  they  had  captured,  passing  it  from  one  to  another 


126  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

like  a  loving  cup.  Perhaps  there  was  no  one  there  who 
had  a  bigger  appetite  or  more  to  tell  in  the  way  of 
adventures  than  Sidney  Welch,  and  he  talked  &  steady 
streak  until  Chub  told  him  he  'd  choke  himself. 

It  was  not  until  dinner  was  well-nigh  over  that  Roy's 
absence  was  noted  by  any  save  Chub.  But  when,  at 
half-past  nine,  he  had  not  returned,  the  matter  was  re- 
ported to  Doctor  Emery  and  the  telephone  became  busy. 
But  neither  Carroll  nor  Silver  Cove  knew  anything  of 
the  missing  boy.  The  Principal  waited  until  eleven 
o'clock,  and  then  a  searching  party  was  made  up.  Mr. 
Cobb  and  Mr.  Buckman  took  charge  and  with  four  of 
the  older  boys  and  Chub,  who  was  taken  along  to  show 
where  Roy  had  last  been  seen,  left  the  Cottage  at  a  little 
after  eleven.  They  carried  two  lanterns  and  Jack  Rog- 
ers had  slipped  a  revolver  into  his  pocket  which,  he 
said,  could  be  heard  where  a  shout  could  n't.  But  he 
said  nothing  to  the  instructors  about  it,  since  firearms 
were  forbidden  and  Jack  feared  confiscation.  Mr.  Emery 
saw  them  off  from  the  Cottage  porch  and  instructed  Mr. 
Cobb  to  telephone  him  from  Carroll  or  Silver  Cove  if 
he  had  a  chance.  It  was  as  dark  as  pitch  as  they  made 
their  way  across  the  field  and  found  the  road,  and  the 
wavering  light  from  a  couple  of  lanterns  seemed  only 
to  accentuate  the  gloom.  Once  away  from  the  school 
they  began  to  call  at  intervals  but  got  no  response.  Chub 
and  Jack  had  some  difficulty  in  finding  the  place  where 
they  had  returned  to  the  road  from  the  uplands,  but 
at  last  they  discovered  it  and  the  party  took  off  up  the 


HARRY  FINDS  A  CLUE  127 

hill.  It  was  soon  after  that  that  Mr.  Buekman  stopped 
and  asked: 

"How  many  are  there  in  this  party,  anyhow?" 

"Should  be  seven  of  us,"  answered  Mr.  Cobb. 
"Why?" 

"Because,  unless  I  'm  much  mistaken,  I  counted 
eight  a  minute  ago.  Who  's  that  over  there,  the  last 
one?" 

"Warren,  sir." 

"No,  I  don't  mean  you.     Who  's  next  to  you?" 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.     Then, 

"Blest  if  I  know,  sir,"  answered  Warren  in  puzzled 
tones. 

"It  's  me,"  said  an  apologetic  voice. 

"Who  's  me?"  asked  Mr.  Cobb  moving  toward  the 
speaker. 

"Harry,"  was  the  answer. 

' '  Harry !  Harry  Emery  ? ' '  exclaimed  Mr.  Cobb,  f  or- 
g^tting  his  politeness. 

•'Yes,  I — I  thought  I  'd  come  along." 

"Well,  if  that  is  n't  the  greatest!  Did  the  Doctor 
say  you  could  come?" 

"I — I  did  n't  ask  him,"  answered  Harry.  "Please 
don't  send  me  back,  Mr.  Cobb.  I  won't  be  in  the  way 
a  bit  and  I  can  walk  miles ! ' ' 

"Send  you  back!  Why,  I  can't  send  you  back  now — 
that  is — not  alone.  I  suppose  you  '11  have  to  come,  but 
supposing  your  mother  finds  you  're  missing?" 

"Oh,  she  won't,"  answered  Harry  cheerfully.     "She 


128  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

thinks  I  'm  in  bed  and  asleep.  And  I  was — that  is,  I 
was  in  bed." 

"Well,  come  along  then,  but  see  that  you  stick  close 
to  us,"  grumbled  Mr.  Cobb.  "We  don't  want  to  loose 
any  more  persons  to-night!" 

So  Harry  trudged  along  at  the  tail  of  the  party,  keep- 
ing close  to  Jack  Rogers  and  Chub  and  starting  nerv- 
ously when  she  heard  strange  noises  in  the  bushes  along 
the  way. 

It  was  slow  going  and  when  they  were  well  up  on  the 
hills  the  night  wind  stung  hands  and  faces.  It  was 
well  upon  midnight  when  Chub  announced  that  they 
should  have  reached  the  place  where  he  had  left  Roy. 
But  a  locality  looks  very  different  at  night  by  the  light 
of  a  wavering  lantern  than  it  does  in  the  daytime,  and 
when  they  had  cast  about  for  a  while,  calling  and  shout- 
ing, Chub  was  forced  to  acknowledge  that  he  was  n't 
certain  of  the  place. 

"It  ought  to  be  about  here,"  he  said  anxiously,  "but 
somehow  this  does  n't  look  like  it.  It  does  n't  seem  to 
me  it  was  quite  so  hilly;  and  there  were  n't  any  trees 
about  that  I  remember." 

After  a  quarter  of  an  hour  more  of  unsuccessful 
search  Mr.  Cobb  and  Mr.  Buekman  held  a  consultation 
and  decided  that  the  best  thing  to  do,  unless  they  wanted 
to  get  lost  themselves,  was  to  stay  where  they  were  and 
wait  for  dawn.  So  they  found  a  sheltered  spot  in  the 
lee  of  a  big  rock  and  made  themselves  as  comfortable 
as  they  could.    Warren  suggested  a  fire  and  a  half -hour 


Mr.  Cobb  and  the  seareh-party  looking  for  Roy. 


HARRY  FINDS  A  CLUE  129 

was  spent  in  finding  fuel  within  the  radius  of  lantern- 
light.  Finally,  however,  the  flames  were  leaping  and 
the  sparks  flying  and  the  party  regained  some  of  their 
ebbing  spirits. 

"If  he  sees  the  light  he  will  look  it  up,"  said  Mr. 
Buckman.    "That  was  a  good  idea  of  yours,  Warren." 

"What  I  'm  afraid  of,"  said  Mr.  Cobb,  "is  that  he 
has  met  with  an  accident  of  some  sort.  Seems  to  me  that 
if  he  had  the  use  of  his  limbs  he  would  have  reached 
the  school  before  this,  or  at  least  have  communicated 
with  us.  Well,  we  '11  have  to  make  the  best  of  things 
until  the  light  comes.  Better  take  a  nap,  fellows,  if 
you  can." 

But  they  were  in  no  mood  for  napping.  The  leaping 
flames  lent  their  tinge  of  romance  to  a  situation  al- 
ready sufficiently  out  of  the  common  to  be  exciting  and 
the  boys  wanted  to  live  every  moment  of  it.  The  un- 
certainty as  to  Roy's  fate  added  a  qualm  of  uneasiness, 
but  when  once  Warren  had  got  well  into  his  story  of 
the  Wyoming  outlaws  who  lived  in  a  cave  and  robbed 
trains  and  stage  coaches,  even  Chub  forgot  the  purpose 
of  the  expedition  for  whole  minutes  at  a  time.  I  think 
Harry  unconsciously  dozed  several  times,  although  she 
always  denied  it  indignantly.  Now  and  then  one  of  the 
party  would  mend  the  fire  and  then  crawl  back  to  the 
protection  of  the  ledge  and  the  waving  bushes.  Mr. 
Cobb  followed  Warren  with  some  stories  of  Cornwall 
wreckers  which  he  had  read,  and  after  that  every  mem- 
ber of  the  party  save  Harry,  who  happened  to  be  very 


130  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

quiet  about  that  time,  contributed  some  tale  of  dark 
deeds.  Presently  Jack  made  the  discovery  that  it 
was  possible  to  see  the  branches  of  the  wind-whipped 
bushes  behind  them.  Chub  climbed  to  the  summit  of 
the  ledge  and  announced  that  there  was  light  away  down 
on  the  horizon  toward  the  east.  Then  followed  an  hour 
of  waiting  during  which  the  world  gradually  turned 
from  black  to  gray.  The  fire  died  out  for  lack  of  fuel 
and  the  boys  snuggled  into  the  collars  of  their  sweaters, 
for  it  seemed  to  grow  more  chill  each  moment.  Then, 
when  objects  a  few  yards  away  could  be  distinguished, 
Mr.  Cobb  suggested  that  they  "break  camp."  So  they 
spread  out  in  a  line  and  took  up  the  search  again,  call- 
ing as  they  went.  The  light  grew  quickly  and  in  the 
east  the  sky  took  on  a  tinge  of  rose.  Mr.  Cobb  stopped 
once  and  picked  something  from  the  ground. 

"Must  be  slate  quarries  about  here,"  he  said. 
"There  's  a  lot  of  broken  pieces  here  and  loose  gravel. 
Yes,  here  's  a  hole,"  he  went  on,  walking  forward,  "but 
they  only  went  down  a  few  feet.  I  wonder  if  there  are 
more  of  them?" 

Suddenly  there  was  a  cry  from  the  other  end  of  the 
line. 

' '  Mr.  Cobb,  come  see  what  I  've  found ! ' ' 

It  was  Harry's  voice  and  Mr.  Cobb  made  his  way 
to  her  where  she  stood  at  the  edge  of  a  thicket  of  leaf- 
less brambles. 

"What  is  it,  Harry?"  he  asked. 

For  answer  she  held  up  a  tiny  bit  of  crimson  yarn. 


HAEEY  FINDS  A  CLUE  131 

"What  do  you  make  of  this?"  asked  the  instructor, 
looking  at  it  in  a  puzzled  way. 

"I  think  it  came  from  his  sweater!"  declared  Harry 
triumphantly.     "It  was  on  that  branch  there." 

"Good  for  you,  Harry!"  cried  Chub,  who  had  joined 
them  ahead  of  the  others.  "Roy  had  his  red  sweater 
on  and  it  's  money  to  muffins  that  thread  was  pulled 
out  as  he  went  by." 

"He  did  n't  go  by,  though,"  said  Harry.  "He  went 
through.  Don't  you  see  how  the  bushes  are  trampled 
down?     Come  on!" 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  NIGHT  IN  THE  QUARRY 

WHEN  ROY  regained  consciousness  and  opened  his 
eyes  he  found  himself  in  pitch  darkness.  His  head 
felt  strangely  dizzy  and  for  a  moment  he  lay  still 
and  strove  to  recall  what  had  happened  to  him.  Then 
he  remembered  and  with  a  sudden  fear  at  his  heart 
moved  cautiously.  But  although  every  bone  in  his  body 
felt  bruised  he  was  able  to  climb  to  his  feet.  The  effort 
however,  left  him  so  weak  and  dizzy  that  he  reached 
out  for  support,  found  a  branch  and  clung  to  it  while 
a  minute  or  two  passed.  And  in  clinging  to  it  he 
became  aware  of  the  fact  that  his  left  hand  hurt  him 
a  good  deal.  Presently,  when  he  could  stand  without 
holding  on,  he  felt  of  the  aching  member  and  found 
it  swollen  and  sore  to  the  touch.  The  trouble  seemed 
to  be  at  the  wrist  and  he  wondered  whether  in  falling 
he  had  landed  on  it  and  broken  it.  But  it  did  n't 
feel  broken,  for  he  could  bend  it  and  even  wriggle  his 
fingers,  although  it  pained  horribly  to  do  it.  Probably 
it  was  only  a  sprain  or  a  dislocation ;  that  could  keep. 
Meanwhile  he  would  like  very  much  to  know  where  he 
was. 

132 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  QUARRY 

When  he  had  fallen  he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
dark  pit,  the  sides  of  which  were  hidden  here  and  there 
by  bushes.  It  had  been  the  briefest  sort  of  a  glimpse, 
for  he  had  stepped  over  the  edge  and,  without  a  second 's 
warning,  had  plunged  downward  into  twilight  darkness. 
He  remembered  clutching  at  a  branch  which  came  away 
in  his  hand,  and  he  remembered  crashing  through  a 
bush  which  had  broken  but  not  stopped  his  fall.  Of 
what  happened  after  that  he  could  remember  nothing. 

Now  he  stepped  cautiously  forward,  feeling  in  front 
of  him  with  hands  and  feet.  The  ground  was  loose  and 
uneven.  Three  short  steps  brought  his  hands  in  contact 
with  a  smooth  expanse  of  stone.  His  fingers  could  find 
no  place  to  clutch,  even  though  he  managed  to  fit  the 
toe  of  one  shoe  into  a  niche  a  foot  or  so  above  the 
ground.  He  moved  to  the  right  through  the  darkness. 
But  the  wall  of  stone  continued.  Now  and  then  it  be- 
came uneven  and  his  hands  scraped  over  rough  edges, 
but  it  offered  no  chance  of  escape.  On  and  on  he  went. 
He  knew  that  he  must  be  describing  something  of  a 
circle,  since  he  was  in  a  pit  of  some  sort,  but  it  seemed 
that  he  was  edging  straight  away  from  where  he  had 
fallen.  At  last  he  found  bushes  and  for  a  moment  he 
had  hope.  But,  although  he  wormed  his  way  upward 
through  them  for  the  space  of  a  few  feet,  at  last  he 
brought  up  against  a  perpendicular  wall  of  rock  and 
he  was  forced  to  retreat.  He  became  conscious  of  a 
dim  feeling  of  fright  and  strove  to  fight  it  down.  His 
hands  were  moist  and  the  perspiration  stood  on  his  fore- 


134  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

head  in  little  cold  drops.  He  stopped  and  leaned  against 
the  wall  behind  him.  As  he  did  so  he  became  aware 
of  hundreds  of  little  noises  about  him  and  a  cold  shiver 
travelled  down  his  back.     Then, 

"Pshaw!"  he  muttered.  "There  's  nothing  here  but 
birds  and  such  things.  Even  snakes  don't  come  out 
after  dark.  I  guess  I  'm  settled  for  the  night  and  I 
might  as  well  make  the  best  of  it.  I  dare  say  I  've 
already  been  around  this  old  hole  half  a  dozen  times. 
No,  I  have  n't,  though,  for  I  've  only  found  those 
bushes  back  there  once.  I  '11  go  on,  I  guess;  maybe 
there  's  a  regular  macadamized  road  out  of  here." 

He  moved  on,  whistling  softly  to  keep  from  feeling 
discouraged.  But  his  left  wrist  and  hand  pained  fright- 
fully, and  presently  he  stopped  and  tried  to  find  a  po- 
sition for  it  that  would  ease  the  ache.  Finally  he  found 
his  handkerchief,  tied  it  about  his  neck  and  placed  the 
injured  arm  through  the  improvised  sling.  It  helped  a 
little.  After  that  he  continued  his  search,  but  rather 
half-heartedly.  He  longed  for  light  and  fell  to  wonder- 
ing what  time  it  was.  Presumably  he  had  fallen  in 
there  about  half-past  four  or  maybe  five.  But  there 
was  no  knowing  how  long  he  had  lain  unconscious.  It 
might  be  eight  o'clock  or  it  might  be  well  toward  morn- 
ing !     He  wished  he  knew ! 

Above  his  head,  how  far  he  could  only  guess,  the 
night  wind  was  whipping  the  bare  bushes.  Now  and 
then  a  gust  came  down  and  made  him  shiver,  but  on 
the  whole  it  was  not  uncomfortable  down  there  as  long 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  QUAREY  13& 

as  he  was  moving  about.  But  he  could  n't  keep  that 
up  much  longer,  for  his  head  was  aching,  his  legs  were 
stiff  and  lame  and  every  movement  sent  little  thrills 
of  pain  down  his  arm  from  elbow  to  fingers.  He  was 
glad  now  of  his  thick  sweater  and  wished  his  legs  were 
as  warm  as  the  upper  part  of  his  body. 

For  a  while  he  sat  on  a  litle  rock  near  the  wall  along 
which  he  had  been  travelling.  Then  he  began  to  feel 
drowsy.  That  was  fine,  he  thought;  if  he  could  only 
go  to  sleep  he  could  forget  his  discomforts,  and  per- 
haps when  he  awoke  it  would  be  morning.  So  he  felt 
about  on  the  broken  stone  and  moist  gravel  that  formed 
the  floor  of  his  prison  half  fearsomely,  afraid  of  en- 
countering uncanny  things  in  the  dark.  But  his  hands 
found  only  soil  and  rock  and  scant  vegetation  and  he 
laid  himself  down  gingerly  out  of  respect  to  his  ach- 
ing body  and  closed  his  eyes.  But  for  a  while  the  dis- 
comforts of  his  couch  made  themselves  too  apparent  to 
allow  of  slumber.  Queer,  stealthy  little  noises  sounded 
about  him  and  he  imagined  all  sorts  of  things  creeping 
toward  him  through  the  darkness.  Once  or  twice  he 
kicked  his  feet  and  cried  "Scat!"  loudly.  Then  he 
laughed  at  himself  for  his  nervousness  and  strove  not 
to  think  of  the  sounds.  He  wondered  who  had  won  the 
race  and  whether  they  had  missed  him  at  school; 
whether  Chub  had  caught  up  with  Jack  and  Pryor; 
what  Chub  was  thinking  about  his  disappearance.  Then 
be  started  out  of  his  drowsiness.  Surely  he  had  heard 
his  name  called !    He  sat  up  and  listened  intently.    Then 


136  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

he  called  at  the  top  of  his  voice  half  a  dozen  times.  But 
he  heard  nothing  more,  and  presently  he  lay  down  again 
with  a  sigh,  eased  the  position  of  his  throbbing  arm 
and  went  quietly  to  sleep. 

And  the  very  next  moment,  as  it  seemed  to  Roy,  he 
heard  his  name  called  again,  quite  loudly  and  distinctly 
this  time,  and  opened  his  eyes,  blinking,  to  find  his 
prison  filled  with  the  grey,  misty  light  of  morning  and 
to  hear  voices  above  him.  Then  came  his  name  again, 
in  the  unmistakable  tones  of  Mr.  Cobb,  and  he  had  time 
to  marvel  smilingly  that  the  football  coach  had  really 
got  his  name  right  for  once  before  he  sat  up  and  an- 
swered loudly.  Then  came  sounds  of  crashing  branches 
and  Roy  jumped  dizzily  to  his  feet. 

"Look  out!"  he  shouted.  "There  's  a  hole  here. 
Look  where  you  're  going,  Mr.  Cobb ! ' ' 

Then  Mr.  Cobb  was  kneeling  above  at  the  edge  of  the 
quarry  looking  down  upon  him  anxiously  and  Harry  's 
face  appeared  behind  his  shoulder,  a  rather  white, 
frightened  countenance  in  the  pale  light. 

"Hurt,  Porter?"  asked  Mr.  Cobb. 

"No,  sir,  just  shaken  up  a  bit." 

' '  Well,  thank  Heaven !  Can  you  climb  out  anywhere  ? ' ' 
Mr.  Cobb's  eyes  travelled  dubiously  about  the  pit. 

"I  don't  believe  so,"  answered  Roy.  "I  tried  to  find 
a  place  last  night."     He  turned  and  looked  about  him. 

And  his  face  went  white  at  what  he  saw. 

In  shape  the  quarry  was  a  rough  oval,  its  walls  so 
steep  that  at  first  glance  escape  even  in  daylight  seemed 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  QUARRY  137 

impossible.  In  many  places  the  top  of  the  wall  over- 
hung the  bottom.  Now  and  then  a  clump  of  grass  or 
weeds  showed  against  the  dark  and  discolored  face  of  the 
rock,  and  in  a  few  places  good-sized  bushes  had  grown 
out.  But  all  this  Roy  saw  later.  At  present  he  was  stand- 
ing with  his  back  to  the  bank,  staring  in  fascinated  dread 
at  the  center  of  the  quarry.  From  the  walls,  all  around, 
the  ground  sloped  downward  toward  the  center  and 
only  a  few  feet  away  from  him  was  the  margin  of  a 
pool  some  thirty  feet  in  diameter.  There  was  no  slime  on 
the  top,  no  weeds  about  its  edge  and  in  the  dim  light 
of  early  morning  the  water  looked  black  and  ugly.  Roy 
stepped  nearer  and  looked  down  into  its  depths.  Far 
below  him  jutting  edges  of  rock  loomed  up  but  the 
bottom  was  not  in  sight.  Shuddering,  he  retreated. 
Had  he  fallen  a  little  farther  away  from  the  bank,  or 
had  he  rolled  over  after  falling,  they  would  not  have 
found  him  so  easily.  He  muttered  a  little  prayer  of 
thanks  to  the  Providence  which  had  watched  over  him 
during  the  night  and  had  guided  his  stumbling  foot- 
steps in  safety.  Then  his  head  felt  dizzy  and  he  sat 
down  suddenly  on  the  bank  of  broken  and  crumbled 
slate  and  went  off  into  a  faint. 

When  he  came  to,  Mr.  Cobb  was  dabbing  his  face 
with  a  wet  handkerchief  and  Jack  Rogers  and  Chub 
were  slapping  his  hands  and  arms.  Perhaps  it  was  the 
latter  method  which  brought  him  around,  for  a  dis- 
located wrist  does  n't  take  kindly  to  blows!  He  yanked 
his  injured  hand  away  with  a  cry  of  pain  and  Mr.  Cobb 
removed  the  sopping  handkerchief. 


138  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

"All  right  now,  eh?"  he  asked  kindly.  "Hello, 
what  's  wrong  there?"  He  took  the  boy's  hand  and 
examined  it,  his  fingers  probing  skilfully.  "How  'd 
you  do  that?     Fall  on  it?" 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Roy.  "It  is  n't  busted, 
is  it?" 

"No,  dislocated.  Feel  that  bone  sticking  up  there? 
We  '11  have  to  fix  that  right  now,  I  guess.  Hurts, 
does  n't  it?  Give  me  a  couple  of  handkerchiefs,  you 
chaps."  Chub  and  Jack  produced  theirs  and  Mr.  Cobb 
took  a  long  leather  wallet  from  his  coat  pocket  and 
emptied  it  of  its  contents.  "Just  hold  your  hand  out 
straight,"  he  directed.  Then,  with  one  hand  above  the 
wrist  and  the  other  about  the  fingers  he  pulled  steadily 
until  the  wrist  slipped  back  into  place.  Roy  winced 
a  little,  but  after  the  lump  had  disappeared  his  whole 
arm  felt  easier.  Mr.  Cobb  laid  the  leather  wallet  about 
the  wrist  and  bound  it  tightly  with  the  handkerchiefs. 

"That  '11  do  until  we  get  back,"  he  said.  "Put  it 
back  in  that  sling  of  yours  and  keep  it  there,  Porter. 
Now  we  '11  see  if  we  can  get  you  out  of  here.  Do  you 
think  you  can  walk?" 

For  answer  Roy  climbed  to  his  feet. 

"All  right,  only  remember  that  you  've  had  a  pretty 
good  shaking  up  and  have  n't  had  anything  to  eat  since 
yesterday  noon,  and  don't  try  to  do  too  much.  We  '11 
see  if  we  can't  boost  you  up  over  here." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  other  side  of  the  pool  and  Roy 
saw  that  a  rough  path  zigzagged  down  the  face  of  the 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  QUAEEY  139 

bank  there.  So  steep  it  was,  however,  that  they  had  to 
help  each  other  here  and  there,  and  it  seemed  a  long  time 
before  Mr.  Buckman  and  the  others,  awaiting  them  at 
the  top,  were  able  to  reach  down  and  pull  them  over 
the  edge  of  the  rock.  Roy  subsided  breathless  on  the 
grass  and  looked  about  him.  The  sun  was  just  topping 
the  rising  hill  beyond  and  the  world  looked  very  sweet 
to  him  at  that  moment. 

"That  's  where  you  went  over,"  said  Mr.  Buckman, 
pointing  across  the  pit.  "AVe  followed  you  up  to  the  edge. 
You  must  have  struck  against  that  bush  there  and  bro- 
ken your  fall;  the  branches  are  all  broken,  I  noticed^ 
a  good  thing  you  did,  too,  I  guess." 

"I  remember  falling  into  some  branches,"  said  Boy. 
"That  's  the  last  thing  I  do  remember;  when  I  woke  up 
it  was  pitch  dark." 

"What  's  that?"  asked  Mr.  Cobb.  "Lose  conscious- 
ness, did  you?  Did  you  hit  your  head?  Here,  let  's 
have  a  good  look  at  you,  my  boy."  And,  presently,  "I 
should  think  you  did !  Does  n  't  that  hurt  when  I  press 
it?" 

"A  little,"  answered  Roy. 

"Hum!  Guess  you  've  got  a  pretty  tough  skull. 
Look  at  this  place,  Eaton.  Must  have  come  down  on  a 
small  stone,  I  should  say.  Well,  that  '11  wait  until  we 
get  home.  I  wonder  if  we  can  carry  him  between  us  ? 
Maybe  one  of  you  chaps  had  better  run  back  and  tell 
them  to  send  the  phaeton." 

But  Roy  protested  that  he  could  walk  every  inch  of 


140  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

the  way  and  finally  Mr.  Cobb  consented  to  let  him  try  it, 
and  the  return  journey  began.  Chub  walked  beside 
Roy,  anxiously  solicitous.  Most  of  the  party  were 
frankly  sleepy  and  worn  out  now  that  the  excitement 
was  over.  Harry  appeared  to  have  lost  interest  in  the 
whole  affair.  Not  once,  so  far  as  Roy  knew,  did  she 
even  so  much  as  glance  in  his  direction. 

"What  's  Harry  doing  here?"  he  whispered  to  Chub. 
And  Chub  recounted  the  happenings  of  the  night ;  how 
Harry  had  joined  the  party  unknown  to  them,  how 
they  had  built  a  fire  and  waited  for  light  and  finally 
how  Harry  had  discovered  the  bit  of  yarn  torn  from 
his  sweater. 

"It  was  fairly  easy  after  that,"  said  Chub.  "We 
could  see  here  and  there  where  you  had  broken  through 
the  bushes,  and  once  or  twice  we  found  your  footprints. 
We  knew  they  were  yours  on  account  of  the  spikes.  If 
it  had  n't  been  for  Harry  I  guess  you  'd  have  been 
waiting  yet.  Though  maybe  you  could  have  got  up 
that  bank  alone." 

Roy  trudged  on  in  silence  for  a  while.     Then, 

"Who  won?"  he  demanded  eagerly.     Chub  grinned. 

"I  won  the  individual  cup  and  First  Seniors  got  the 
class  cup,"  he  said.  "Jack  and  I  had  it  nip  and  tuck 
all  the  way  to  the  gate,  and  if  he  had  n't  stumbled  over 
the  track  he  'd  have  beat  me." 

"I  'm  glad  you  got  it,"  said  Roy.  "I  was  afraid 
you  would  n't  catch  up  with  them,  after  staying  so  long 
with  me." 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  QUARRY  141 

"I  was  a  blamed  idiot  to  leave  you,"  answered  Chub 
savagely.  "I  did  n't  deserve  to  win  anything.  Why, 
you  came  mighty  near  killing  yourself ! ' ' 

"Yes,  I  guess  I  did,"  said  Roy  thoughtfully.  "But 
it  was  n't  your  fault,  you  silly  ass.  I  got  all  mixed 
up  and  could  n't  tell  where  I  was.  And  then,  the 
first  thing  I  knew  I — I  was  n't  anywhere!" 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  said  Chub. 

But  just  then  Mr.  Cobb  told  Eoy  he  had  better  not 
tire  himself  by  talking  and  so  Chub  had  to  wait  to 
hear  his  chum's  adventures.  An  hour  later  Roy  was 
fast  asleep  in  his  bed.  They  had  served  him  with  some 
milk-toast,  scanty  fare  for  a  boy  who  had  missed  two 
meals,  and  he  had  promptly  turned  over  and  gone  to 
sleep.  In  the  middle  of  the  forenoon  the  Silver  Cove 
doctor  appeared,  re-dressed  his  wrist,  put  something  on 
his  head  and  left  a  tumblerful  of  some  sort  of  nasty- 
tasting  medicine.  And  the  next  day  Roy  was  up  and 
about  again  apparently  as  good  as  new  save  for  his 
injured  arm.  This  was  carried  in  a  sling  for  over  a 
week,  but  he  did  n't  mind  that  much. 

The  second  morning  after  his  rescue  he  went  over 
to  the  Cottage  and  asked  for  Harry.  Presently  she 
came  down  to  the  parlor  where  he  was  awaiting  her  in 
front  of  the  soft  coal  fire  and  he  tried  to  remember  the 
formal  speech  of  gratitude  he  had  fashioned.  But  it 
had  gone  completely  from  him.  So  he  just  held  out 
his  hand  and  said  he  was  jolly  much  obliged  to  her 
for  what  she  had  done. 


142  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"Everybody  says  that  if  you  had  n't  seen  that  bit 
of  red  yarn  I  'd  have  been  there  yet,"  he  declared, 

Harry  shook  his  hand  formally,  said  she  had  n't 
done  anything,  that  she  was  very  glad  he  had  had 
such  a  fortunate  escape  and  asked  politely  after  his 
injury. 

"Oh,  the  arm   's  all  right  now,"  said  Roy. 

After  that  conversation  languished  until  Mrs.  Emery 
came  down  and  made  Roy  tell  her  all  about  it.  And 
during  the  narrative  Harry  disappeared.  It  was  quite 
evident  that  she  had  n't  forgiven  him,  thought  Roy,  as 
he  took  his  departure.  He  did  n't  look  back  as  he 
went  down  the  drive  and  so  failed  to  see  somebody  with 
red  hair  peering  down  from  between  the  curtains  of 
an  upstairs  window. 


CHAPTEE  XIII 

FORMING  THE  HOCKEY  TEAM 

"Candidates  wanted  for  the  Hockey  team.  All  those  who  have 
played  or  would  like  to  play  please  attend  a  meeting  in  the 
Gym  at  4  p.  m.  on  Friday. 

"J.  S.  Kogers, 
"T.  H.  Eaton, 
"Koy  Porter.  " 

THIS  notice  appeared  on  the  board  in  School  Hall 
the  last  day  of  November,  and  when,  four  days 
later,  the  meeting  was  called  to  order  by  Jack  Rogers, 
there  were  some  twenty-five  fellows  adorning  the  wooden 
benches  in  the  locker  room.  A  handful  of  the  number 
had  come  for  want  of  anything  better  to  do,  for  it 
was  a  dismal,  wet  afternoon  offering  little  encourage- 
ment to  those  whose  tastes  turned  toward  out-of-door 
pursuits.  For  once  the  line  separating  the  "Burlenites" 
and  the  "Porterites"  was  not  closely  drawn,  for  there 
were  not  a  few  of  the  former  present,  their  desire  for 
a  chance  to  play  hockey  overcoming  their  allegiance  to 
Horace.  Needless  to  say,  however,  neither  Horace  nor 
Otto  was  on  hand. 

"Somebody  turn  that  switch,"  began  Jack,  "and 
give  us  some  light.  That  's  better.  This  meeting  has 
been  called  by  a   few   of  us  who  want  to   get  up   a 

143 


U4  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

hockey  team.  I  don't  know  much  about  hockey  myself 
and  so  I  '11  let  Porter  do  the  talking.  He  started  the 
thing,  anyhow,  and  he  ought  to  have  the  fun  of  speech- 
ifying to  you.  But  I  'd  like  to  say  that,  as  you  all  know, 
Hammond  has  been  playing  hockey  for  five  or  six  years 
and  has  challenged  us  almost  every  year  to  play  her. 
If  Hammond  has  a  team  we  ought  to  have  one  too.  And 
if  we  have  one  maybe  we  can  lick  her  at  hockey  just 
as  we  have  at  football."  (Deafening  applause.) 
"There  's  no  reason  why  we  should  n't.  Here,  Roy, 
you  tell  them  the  rest." 

Roy  got  up  rather  embarrassedly  and  faced  the  meet- 
ing. 

"Well,  all  I  've  got  to  say  is  that  hockey  is  a  dandy 
game  and  we  ought  to  have  a  team — if  only  to  lick 
Hammond.  (Renewed  applause.)  It  is  n't  a  difficult 
game  to  learn  if  a  fellow  can  skate  half  decently  and 
it  does  n't  require  much  of  an  outlay.  We  've  talked 
to  Mr.  Cobb  and  he  has  secured  permission  for  the 
formation  of  a  team.  And  he  knows  something  about 
the  game  himself  and  will  help  us  all  he  can.  Our 
idea  was  to  build  a  rink  along  the  river  about  where 
the  old  ferry  landing  is.  Doctor  Emery  says  we  can 
use  what  lumber  there  is  in  the  landing  and  shed  to 
build  the  rink  with.  And  I  think  there  '11  be  more 
than  we  need.  Then  we  'd  get  a  pump  and  pump 
water  in  from  the  river." 

"Why  not  play  on  the  river?"  asked  a  boy. 

"Well,   that  was  the  idea   in  the  first  place,"  an- 


FOEMING  THE  HOCKEY  TEAM  145 

swered  Roy,  "but  Mr.  Cobb  thought  we  'd  better  have 
a  regular  rink.  It  's  hard  to  play  without  boundaries 
because  your  puck  gets  away  from  you  and  you  have 
to  chase  it  all  around  the  shop.  Then,  too,  Mr.  Cobb 
says  that  half  the  time  the  ice  would  be  too  rough  or 
too  much  broken  up  to  allow  of  playing  on  it.  We  've 
figured  it  up  and  think  the  outside  cost  of  the  whole 
thing,  rink,  pump,  goals  and  sticks  won't  be  much  over 
eighty  dollars." 

"How  you  going  to  raise  it?"  asked  one  of  the  au- 
dience. 

"That  's  what  we  've  got  to  decide  on,"  said  Roy. 
"I  suppose  we  could  n't  get  nearly  that  much  by  sub- 
scription ? ' ' 

Several  shook  their  heads,  and, 

"I  don't  believe  we  could,"  said  Chub.  "But  we 
might  get  half  of  it.     If  every  fellow  gave  a  dollar — " 

"Seems  to  me,"  said  the  boy  who  had  raised  the 
question,  "that  the  fellows  who  make  the  team  ought 
to  do  the  subscribing." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  Jack.  "If  we  made  the 
football  and  baseball  teams  pay  all  their  expenses  I 
guess  we  would  n't  have  them  very  long.  It  ought  to 
be  worth  a  dollar  to  every  fellow  here  to  have  a  good 
hockey  team." 

"That  's  so,"  assented  Chub. 

"Well,"  went  on  Roy,  "I  wanted  to  hear  what  you  'd 
say  about  it,  but  I  did  n't  think  we  could  get  the  money 
that  way,  not  all  of  it,  I  mean.     So  I  thought  of  an- 


146  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE 

other  scheme.  Why  could  n't  we  get  up  an  entertain- 
ment of  some  kind  and  charge  admission.  How  would 
that  do?" 

"Great!" 

"Swell!" 

"Fine  and  dandy!" 

"Chub  can  sing  'The  Old  Ark's  A-movin'!" 

"Cole  can  do  his  card  stunts!" 

"Cut  it  out,  fellows,"  said  Jack.  "Let  's  get  the 
matter  settled;  it  's  getting  late." 

So  they  got  down  to  business  again  and  Jack,  Chub 
and  Koy  were  formed  into  an  Entertainment  Committee. 
After  that  Roy  took  the  floor  again. 

"How  many  of  you  fellows  will  come  out  for  prac- 
tice?" he  asked.  Practically  every  hand  went  up. 
"How  many  have  played  hockey?"  Twelve  hands. 
"All  right.  We  '11  divide  into  two  teams,  first  and 
second,  and  as  fast  as  the  fellows  on  the  second  show 
that  they  can  play  well  they  '11  get  onto  the  first. 
We  probably  won't  be  able  to  begin  work  on  the  ice 
until  after  Christmas  Recess.  But  as  soon  as  we  can 
get  some  money  we  '11  send  for  goals  and  sticks  and 
pucks.  Then  we  '11  put  one  of  the  goals  up  here  on  the 
floor  and  practice  shooting.  Later  we  '11  have  another 
meeting,  after  practice  has  begun,  and  elect  a  captain 
and  a  manager.  And  as  soon  as  we  get  the  manager 
we  '11  send  a  challenge  to  Hammond.  Now  you  fel- 
lows give  your  names  to  Chub  Eaton  before  you  go 
out,  and  watch  for  notices  on  the  board  in  School  Hall." 


FORMING  THE  HOCKEY  TEAM        147 

That  was  the  beginning  of  the  Ferry  Hill  School 
Hockey  Association,  which  still  nourishes  and  has  to  its 
credit  several  notable  victories.  It  was  Roy's  idea  from 
the  first.  He  had  played  hockey  a  good  deal  and  had 
seen  many  of  the  college  and  school  games,  and  he  had 
been  surprised  to  learn  that  Ferry  Hill  had  never  had 
a  team.  It  was  easy  to  enlist  Chub  in  the  project  of 
forming  a  club,  and  not  very  difficult  to  interest  Jack. 
Mr.  Cobb  had  been  quite  enthusiastic  but  doubtful  of 
success. 

"They  've  tried  to  form  a  hockey  team  two  or  three 
times,"  he  said,  "and  never  did  it.  But  I  don't  want 
to  discourage  you  chaps.  I  '11  get  permission  from  the 
Doctor,  so  you  go  right  ahead.  Try  to  get  the  whole 
school  interested  in  it;  that  's  the  only  way  to  do." 

By  the  middle  of  December  the  old  ferry  house  and 
landing  had  been  demolished  and  the  planks  had  been 
built  into  a  three-foot  barrier  or  fence  enclosing  a  space 
sixty  feet  wide  by  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  long. 
All  that  remained  was  to  flood  the  enclosed  ground  with 
water  to  the  depth  of  four  or  five  inches  and  allow  it 
to  freeze.  A  hand  suction  pump  had  been  ordered  from 
a  dealer  at  Silver  Cove,  but  there  was  delay  and  in 
the  end  it  did  not  reach  the  school  until  two  days 
before  vacation.  However,  as  December  proved  unusu- 
ally mild,  there  was  no  harm  done.  Meanwhile  the 
goals,  pucks  and  sticks  had  arrived  and  practice  at  shoot- 
ing and  stick-handling  was  held  five  afternoons  a  week 
in  the  gymnasium.     At  the  second  meeting  of  the  can- 


148  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

didates  the  Entertainment  Committee  was  able  to  report 
a  plan  for  the  entertainment.  There  was  to  be  a  min- 
strel show  followed  by  a  series  of  tableaux  in  the  gym- 
nasium the  night  before  the  beginning  of  Christmas 
Recess. 

"Now,"  said  Jack,  who  was  explaining,  "you  chaps 
will  have  to  get  busy  and  interest  every  fellow  you  know 
in  the  affair.  We  want  a  good  big  crowd  for  the  min- 
strels; we  ought  to  have  at  least  two  dozen  fellows. 
There  will  be  another  meeting  here  to-morrow  night 
and  I  want  each  of  you  to  bring  me  the  names  of  fellows 
who  are  willing  to  take  part.  And  you  must  let  me 
know  what  they  can  do,  whether  they  can  sing  or  recite 
or  do  sleight-of-hand  tricks,  you  know.  And  now  I  want 
to  propose  that  we  make  Harry  Emery  an  associate 
member  of  the  Club.  You  see,  we  realized  that  we 
would  n't  be  able  to  do  much  in  the  way  of  costuming 
without  her  help,  so  we  laid  the  matter  before  her.  And 
she  went  right  into  it;  suggested  the  tableaux  feature 
and  offered  to  take  part  herself.  (Laughter  from  the 
audience.)     So  I  think  she  ought  to  be  taken  in." 

"We  ought  to  make  Mr.  Cobb  and  Mr.  Buckman  as- 
sociate members,  too,"  suggested  Chub. 

So  Harry  and  the  two  instructors  were  duly  admitted, 
and  the  meeting  went  into  the  plans  for  the  entertain- 
ment. Sid,  one  of  the  most  enthusiastic  members 
present,  reminded  everyone  that  he  could  play  the  banjo, 
and  Jack  promised  to  let  him  do  his  worst.  Roy  was 
elected  temporary  captain  and  manager  and  Jack  tem- 
porary treasurer.     Then  an  assessment  of  fifty  cents 


FORMING  THE  HOCKEY  TEAM  149 

each  was  levied  and  Jack  spent  the  best  part  of  three 
days  collecting  the  sums.  He,  Koy,  Chub  and  two  others 
had  gone  down  into  their  pockets  and  advanced  the 
money  for  the  goals,  sticks  and  pucks,  and  with  Christ- 
mas Recess  drawing  near  they  were  anxious  to  get  some 
of  it  back.  The  rink  was  to  be  paid  for  in  January 
and  the  pump  on  its  arrival.  It  was  going  to  be  neces- 
sary to  collect  something  over  sixty  dollars  from  the 
entertainment,  and  the  committee  was  getting  anxious. 
There  was  little  time  for  rehearsal,  and,  with  Horace 
and  Otto  doing  all  in  their  power  to  throw  cold  water 
on  the  scheme,  Roy  and  his  friends  had  plenty  to  worry 
them. 

But  Harry  proved  a  brick.  She  went  into  it  to  the 
present  exclusion  of  all  else  and  made  things  hum.  She 
talked  it  up  everywhere  she  went  with  the  result  that 
the  affair  was  extensively  advertised  before  it  was  well 
on  foot.  Harry  attended  a  girls'  academy  at  Silver 
Cove,  and  she  was  n't  satisfied  until  every  pupil  there 
had  faithfully  promised  to  attend  the  entertainment. 
She  also  persuaded  Mr.  Buckman  to  take  part,  some- 
thing that  Jack  and  the  others  had  failed  at.  Mr.  Cobb 
had  already  consented  to  sing  and  do  a  monologue. 
Then  Harry  devised  costumes  and  found  them,  levying 
on  the  wardrobes  of  most  of  her  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances. And  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  and  Chub 
and  Jack  and  Roy  met  at  least  twice  a  day  she  still 
maintained  her  air  of  polite  indifference  toward  the 
latter. 

When  the  morning  of  the  day  of  the  entertainment 


150  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

arrived  affairs  seemed  in  the  wildest  chaos  and  even 
Harry  lost  her  head  for  awhile.  Some  of  the  promised 
participators  had  backed  down  at  the  last  moment,  the 
principal  soloist  had  a  bad  cold,  the  stage  was  still 
unbuilt,  several  of  the  costumes  were  yet  wanting  and 
Harris  and  Kirby,  down  for  a  duet  and  dance,  were  n't 
on  speaking  terms !  And  just  as  though  all  that  was  n't 
enough  to  drive  the  committee  distracted,  Chub  had 
appeared  at  breakfast  with  a  long  face  and  announced 
that  he  had  forgotten  to  mail  the  poster  to  Hammond 
Academy.  In  support  of  the  assertion  he  produced  it, 
stamped  and  addressed.  It  had  been  lying  in  his  pocket 
for  three  days.  As  Hammond  with  its  seventy-odd  stu- 
dents had  been  counted  on  to  send  quite  a  delegation, 
this  was  a  hard  blow.  But  Jack,  with  the  cheerfulness 
of  desperation,  obtained  permission  to  deliver  the  poster 
by  messenger  and  sent  Sid  Welch  across  the  river  with 
it  at  nine  o'clock. 

That  was  certainly  a  day  of  troubles.  Luckily  there 
were  few  recitations  for  anyone.  Jack  and  Chub  spent 
most  of  the  morning  directing  and  aiding  in  the  erection 
of  the  stage  at  the  end  of  the  gymnasium.  The  stage 
was  a  sectional  affair  which,  when  not  in  use,  was  stored 
in  the  furnace  room.  Unfortunately  one  section  seemed 
to  be  missing,  and  putting  the  thing  together  was,  as 
Chub  said,  like  joining  one  of  those  geographical  puzzles. 

"You  know  the  things,  Jack;  they  're  cut  up  with 
a  scroll-saw  into  all  sorts  of  wiggly  pieces,  and  Florida 
insists  on  getting  next  to  New  Hampshire  and  Illinois 


FORMING  THE  HOCKEY  TEAM  151 

won't  fit  anywhere  except  between  South  Carolina  and 
Georgia. ' ' 

"There  must  be  a  piece  of  this  missing,"  answered 
Jack.     "I  'm  going  to  have  another  look." 

And  presently  he  came  back  staggering  under  what 
looked  like  a  length  of  board  walk. 

"Funny  you  fellows  could  n't  find  this,"  he  said 
disgustedly  as  he  swung  one  end  around  against  the 
wall  and  brought  down  six  pairs  of  dumb-bells.  "It 
was  right  in  plain  sight;  they  were  using  it  for  a 
carpenter's  bench." 

"It  is  funny,"  growled  Warren.  "Wonder  they 
did  n  't  make  an  ice-chest  or  a  sewing-machine  out  of  it ! " 

After  that  it  was  plain  sailing  until  they  came  to 
the  curtain.  It  was  a  beautiful  thing,  that  curtain,  four- 
teen feet  wide  and  twelve  feet  long  and  bearing  a  pic- 
ture of  Niagara  Falls  in  blue,  green,  purple  and  pink 
surrounded  by  a  wreath  of  crimson  cabbages — only  they 
were  supposed  to  be  roses.  Despite  its  beauty,  work 
up  and  down  it  would  not.  Half  way  up  it  began 
to  range  itself  in  artistic  folds,  apparently  forgetting 
all  about  the  wooden  roller  at  the  bottom.  Once  it 
came  down  unexpectedly  on  Chub's  head,  and  Chub 
danced  around  and  shook  his  fist  at  it  and  declared 
that  he  'd  cut  holes  in  it  for  two  cents.  No  one  offered 
to  put  up  the  two  cents  and  so  the  curtain  was  saved. 
In  the  end  Jack  manufactured  a  new  pulley-block  and 
after  that  the  foolish  thing  worked  charmingly  every 
other  time. 


152  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"All  we  '11  have  to  do,"  said  Warren  disgustedly, 
"will  be  to  niake  believe  pull  it  up  before  we  really 
mean  to." 

"Kind  of  disconcerting  to  the  fellows  on  the  stage," 
commented  Jack,  but  I  guess  that  's  what  we  '11  have 
to  do." 

The  drop  curtain,  showing  a  lovely  sylvan  glade  in 
unwholesome  shades  of  green,  went  up  without  trouble 
at  the  back  of  the  stage,  but  the  pieces  at  the  sides, 
very  frayed  trees  with  impossible  foliage,  refused  to 
stand  up. 

"We  '11  have  to  make  props,"  said  Chub.  "I  don't 
blame  the  old  things  for  wanting  to  lie  down;  it  makes 
me  tired  just  to  look  at  them." 

But  when,  finally,  the  stage  was  set  and  the  boys 
stood  off  at  a  respectful  distance  and  examined  it  it 
really  looked  very  well.  Chub  admired  the  effect  of 
distance  and  wondered  where  the  path  led  to.  Warren 
said  he  'd  like  to  meet  the  man  who  had  chiseled  out 
the  statue  under  the  trees  and  another  fellow  wanted 
to  go  bird-egging.  Then  they  arranged  the  chairs  and 
benches  in  rows.  They  had  gathered  chairs  of  all  de- 
scriptions from  all  over  the  school  and  the  effect  was 
finely  democratic.  Doctor  Emery's  leather  arm  chair 
hobnobbed  socially  with  a  plain  pine  chair  from  the 
dining  hall  and  Mr.  Buckman's  favorite  hour-glass  chair 
appeared  to  be  trying  to  make  an  impression  on  Har- 
ry's rattan  rocker,  the  latter  looking  very  dressy  witb 
its  pink  silk  head-rest. 


FORMING  THE  HOCKEY  TEAM        153 

They  went  to  dinner  feeling  rather  more  encouraged 
and  found  that  Sid  had  returned  with  good  tidings. 
Hammond  had  learned  of  the  entertainment  several 
days  before  and  had  been  waiting  eagerly  for  an  invita- 
tion to  attend.  And  every  fellow  was  coming,  declared 
Sid.  Roy,  who  had  taken  a  flying  trip  to  the  town 
for  red  and  blue  cheesecloth,  reported  excellent  progress 
on  the  last  of  the  costumes.  And  Post,  who  could  n't 
eat  any  dinner  because  he  had  been  filling  himself  up 
all  day  with  cough  syrup  and  licorice  lozenges,  thought 
he  might  be  able  to  sing,  after  all.  The  last  rehearsal 
was  at  three  o'clock,  and  after  it  was  over  Jack  shook 
his  head  dismally. 

"I  never  saw  such  a  bum  show  in  my  life,"  he  de- 
clared gloomily.  "And  talk  about  singing!  Say,  I 
wonder  if  we  can  bribe  Post  to  stay  away  to-night?" 

"Why,  I  thought  everything  went  beautifully!"  de- 
clared Harry.  "You  wait  until  tonight;  they  '11  do 
a  lot  better." 

"The  chorus  work  was  all  right,"  said  Chub.  "And 
the  tableaux  were  simply  swell.  I  do  wish,  though, 
that  Bacon  would  n't  look  as  though  he  was  going  to 
die  every  minute ! ' ' 

"But  those  jokes!"  groaned  Jack. 

"Oh,  never  mind;  I  've  heard  lots  worse  ones,"  an- 
swered Roy  cheerfully. 

"Not  outside  of  a  Sunday  newspaper  supplement, 
I  '11  bet,"  said  Jack.  "That  one  about  Mr.  Cobb  and 
Miss  Webb,  and  falling  in  love  with  her  the  first  time 


154  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE 

he  'spider'  is  the  limit.  I  heard  that  when  I  was  three 
years  old  ! ' ' 

"That  's  all  right;  folks  like  'em  old  at  a  minstrel 
show,"  answered  Chub.  "Old  wine  to  drink,  old  books 
to  read,  old  jokes  to — " 

"To  ery  over,"  prompted  Jack.  "All  right.  No  use 
in  cutting  up  rough  now.  We  '11  have  to  make  the  best 
of  a  bad  show.  Just  so  long  as  Harris  and  Kirby 
don't  start  to  using  their  fists  on  each  other  during 
their  turn  I  suppose  I  can't  kick." 

"Well,  let  's  go  to  supper,"  said  Roy. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  ENTERTAINMENT  AND  HOW  IT  ENDED 

Entertainment  for  the  Benefit  of  the  Ferry  Hill  School  Hockey- 
Association  in  the  Gymnasium,  Wednesday  Evening,  December 
22d. 

programme 

Part  I. 

Overture  :  ' '  Uncle  Sammy, " Orchestra. 

FOE  ONE  NIGHT  ONLY! 

The  World-Famous  Aggregation  of  Senegambian  Entertainers 
known  as  the  Darktown  Minstrels,  just  returned  from  their 
Triumphant  Tour  of  Europe,  Asia,  Africa  and  New  Jersey, 
where  they  delighted  Eoyalty  and  barely  escaped  with  their 
Lives ! 

ONE  NIGHT  ONLY!!     EEAD  THE  NAMES!! 

Interlocutor Mr.  Eogers 

Bones Messrs.  Post  and  Harris 

Tambourines Messrs.  Eaton  and  Whitcomb 

Disturb ers-of-the-Peace  Messrs.  Cobb,  Buckman, 

Thurlow,  Forrest,  Gallup,  Kirby,  Warren,  Pryor, 
Bacon,  Stone,  Harris,  Shattuck,  Patten  and  Welch. 
Solos  (the  audience  permitting)  by  Messrs.  Cobb,  Post,  Thur- 
low and  Forrest. 
Duets  (at  any  cost)  by  Messrs.  Buckman  and  Cobb,  Harris 
and  Kirby. 

Monologues  by Mr.  Cobb 

Imitations  by  Mr.  Eaton 

To  be  followed  by  the  First  Appearance  in  this  part  of  the 
Country  of  Professor  Carlos  Cole,  Prince  of  Prestidigitators,  in 

155 


156  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

Astounding  Card  Tricks,  Marvellous  Feats  of  Sleight-of-Hand 
and  Appalling  Wonders  of  White  and  Black  Magic  never  before 
seen  on  any  stage  and  not  likely  to  be  again!  (The  Manage- 
ment earnestly  requests  Members  of  the  Audience  not  to  loan 
the  Professor  either  money  or  hats.  The  Management  will  not 
be  Responsible  for  the  Return  of  such  Articles.) 

The  Whole  to  Terminate  in  a  Beautiful  and  Fantastic  Revelry 
of  Song  and  Mirth  entitled: 

"Christmas  Eve  on  the  Plantation!" 

INTERMISSION. 

Part  II. 

Overture  :  ' '  Medley  of  College  Airs  " Orchestra 

COLLEGE  TABLEAUX. 

1.  Yale  Mr.  Bacon 

2.  Harvard  Mr.  Porter 

3.  Princeton    Mr.   Eaton 

4.  Cornell Mr.  Warren 

5.  Columbia  Mr.  Gallup 

6.  Dartmouth  Mr.  Forrest 

7.  Vassar Miss  Emery 

ENSEMBLE. 

Song:  "The  School  on  the  Hill." 
The  Audience  will  please  join  in  the  singing. 

Stage  Manager Mr.  Rogers 

Assistant  Stage  Manager Mr.  Eaton 

Property  Man    Mr.   Porter 

Electrician    Mr.  Pryor 

Prompter  Mr.  Thayer 

Wardrobe  Lady    Miss  Emery. 

Automobiles  and  launches  may  be  ordered  for  10:45.     There  'a 
no  harm  in  ordering. 

The  audience  is  earnestly  requested  not  to  throw  garden  truck 


THE  ENTERTAINMENT  157 

or  hennery  produce.  Bricks  may  be  obtained  from  the  Gentle- 
manly Ushers. 

Attendants  will  report  promptly  to  the  Management  any  inat- 
tention on  the  part  of  the  Audience. 

Persons  unable  to  resist  weeping  at  the  jokes  will  please  step 
outside.    Eain  checks  may  be  had  at  the  door. 

A  MERRY  CHRISTMAS! 


The  public  acted  very  considerately  that  evening. 
Whether  the  report  had  got  around  that  Ferry  Hill 
needed  sixty  dollars  for  her  hockey  team  I  can't  say, 
but  it  's  a  fact  that  when  the  curtain  went  up — only 
twenty  minutes  late ! — there  were  exactly  one  hundred 
and  twenty-eight  persons  in  the  gymnasium  who  had 
paid  for  admission,  and  as  the  price  was  fifty  cents 
apiece  the  one  hundred  and  twenty-eight  persons  meant 
just  sixty-four  dollars  in  the  cigar  box  on  the  table 
by  the  door!  Hammond  turned  out  in  force,  almost 
sixty  of  her  boys  attending;  Miss  Cutler's  School  for 
Young  Ladies  was  well  represented  by  twenty-two  of 
Harry's  schoolmates  under  the  protection  of  Miss  Le- 
titia  Cutler  herself;  the  village  contributed  generously; 
while  as  for  Ferry  Hill,  every  youth  not  holding  an 
official  position  of  some  sort — and  there  were  few  that 
did  n't — was  on  hand,  even  Horace  and  Otto  being 
unable  to  resist  the  promises  of  the  programme,  while 
the  culinary  and  dormitory  force,  as  well  as  John,  the 
gardener  and  general  factotum,  were  huddled  about 
the  door.  Down  in  the  second  row  sat  Doctor  and  Mrs. 
Emery   and   some    friends   from   the   village.     Walker 


158  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

and  Fernald  made  most  presentable  ushers,  and,  as  their 
duties  consisted  principally  of  supplying  programmes 
and  answering  questions,  they  did  finely. 

I  'm  not  going  to  attempt  a  description  of  the  first 
part  of  that  entertainment.  In  the  first  place  it  was 
beyond  description,  far  too  stupendous  and  awe-inspir- 
ing for  my  pen  to  do  justice  to.  From  the  time  the 
curtain  rose — as  correctly  as  though  it  had  never  mis- 
behaved!—revealing  the  World  Famous  Aggregation 
of  Senegambian  Entertainers  until— well,  until  it  fell 
hurriedly  two  hours  later,  everything  went  beautifully. 
Of  course  there  were  little  misadventures,  but  such  are 
expected  and  only  add  to  the  hilarity  of  an  amateur 
show.  When  Chub's  tambourine  flew  whirling  out  of 
his  hand  and  fell  into  Mrs.  Emery's  lap  it  seemed  an 
excellent  joke.  When  Warren  fell  over  a  chair  and 
landed  on  all  fours  in  front  of  the  descending  curtain, 
everybody  applauded  uproariously.  When,  in  the  plan- 
tation sketch,  the  roof  of  the  log  cabin  fell  in  because 
Post  had  thoughtlessly  leaned  against  the  door-frame, 
and  Sid,  in  the  role  of  Aunt  Dinah,  floundered  terri- 
fiedly  out  through  the  window  with  a  spirited  rending 
of  feminine  garments,  the  audience  rocked  in  merriment. 

The  orchestra,  a  Silver  Cove  combination  of  piano, 
flute  and  violin,  did  wonderfully  considering  the  fact 
that  it  had  attended  but  one  rehearsal.  The  solos,  es- 
pecially Mr.  Cobb's  and  Tom  Forrest's,  were  cordially 
received.  Harris  and  Kirby  buried  the  hatchet  tem- 
porarily and  got  through  "Shine,  Silv'ry  Star"  most 


THE  ENTERTAINMENT  159 

brilliantly  and  had  to  give  an  encore.  Mr  Cobb  and  Mr. 
Buckman  did  a  ludicrous  negro  song  which  brought  the 
house  down,  though  not  in  the  same  way  as  Post  had. 
The  chorus  work  was  good  and  the  jokes  took  just  as 
well  as  though  they  had  been  all  fresh  and  new.  Some 
few  of  them  were.  When  Post  asked  Rogers  if  he  knew 
what  the  principal  article  of  diet  was  at  the  school 
across  the  river,  and  when  he  was  finally  prevailed  on  to 
dispel  the  interlocutor's  ignorance  and  replied  "Ham- 
mond eggs,"  the  visitors  from  Hammond  shrieked  their 
appreciation.  When  Harris  explained  that  Ferry  Hill 
was  the  brightest  school  in  the  country  because  the  stu- 
dents had  their  wits  sharpened  by  Emery,  the  Doctor 
chuckled  most  appreciatively.  Even  the  punning  joke 
to  which  Jack  Rogers  had  taken  exception  and  which 
related  the  matrimonial  adventures  of  Mr.  Cobb  and  a 
fictitious  Miss  Webb  went  well. 

Chub's  imitations  were  distinctly  clever,  that  of  Mr. 
Buckman  coaching  the  crew  throwing  the  Ferry  Hill 
portion  of  the  assemblage,  at  least,  into  convulsions.  Sid 
''did  his  worst,"  according  to  promise,  and  made  a  hit 
more  by  his  earnest  desire  to  please  than  by  any  musical 
results  obtained  from  his  banjo.  Mr.  Cobb's  monologues 
were  screamingly  funny  and  he  had  hard  work  getting 
away  from  the  audience.  Professor  Carlos  Cole,  better 
known  as  Charlie  Cole  of  the  Middle  Class,  did  n't  quite 
make  good  all  the  promises  of  the  programme,  but  ex- 
ecuted some  clever  tricks  of  palming  and  even  managed, 
with  some  difficulty,  to  extract  one  of  Harry's  pigeons 


160  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATEE 

out  of  an  empty  bottle — with  the  aid  of  a  voluminous 
handkerchief  which  fluttered  suspiciously  when  pro- 
duced. The  sketch  entitled  "Christmas  Eve  on  the  Plan- 
tation" went  better  than  anyone  dared  hope,  princi- 
pally, perhaps,  for  the  reason  that  about  everybody  for- 
got his  lines  and  did  what  and  how  he  pleased.  The 
first  half  came  to  a  triumphant  end  with  the  entire 
company  of  entertainers  filling  the  little  stage  and 
vigorously  proclaiming  that  they  were  "going  to  live, 
anyhow,  until  they  died." 

During  the  intermission  black-faced  youths  emerged 
from  the  dressing-room  under  the  balcony  and  visited 
friends  in  the  audience  and  the  orchestra  performed 
its  "Medley  of  College  Airs."  The  programme's 
announcement  of  College  Tableaux  had  whetted  the  au- 
dience's curiosity,  and  when  the  hall  darkened,  the  bell 
tinkled  and  the  curtain— still  on  its  good  behaviour — 
rolled  noiselessly  up,  there  was  a  general  craning  for- 
ward of  heads. 

The  painted  back  drop  had  given  way  to  a  curtain 
of  white  cloth.  In  front  of  it  stood  a  large  oblong 
frame  of  wood  covered  with  gilt  paper.  Behind  the 
latter,  like  a  picture  in  its  frame,  stood  Bacon  on  a 
little  white-draped  dais  impersonating  a  Yale  oarsman. 
His  costume  was  a  blue  sleeveless  jersey  with  a  white 
Y  stitched  on  it,  white  trunks,  turned-down  socks  and 
rowing  shoes.  In  his  right  hand  he  supported  an  oar 
with  a  blue  blade.  A  gas  pipe  had  been  run  around 
the  inner  side  of  the  frame  and  the  dozens  of  little  jets 


* 


THE  ENTERTAINMENT  161 

threw  a  brilliant  light  on  the  motionless  figure.  The 
applause  was  instant  and  hearty.  Bacon  kept  the  pose 
for  a  minute  while  the  orchestra  played  "Boola,"  and 
then  the  curtain  fell  again.  Presently  it  went  up  to 
reveal  Roy  in  his  crimson  sweater,  moleskin  trousers, 
crimson  stockings  and  tan  shoes.  A  white  H  adorned 
the  front  of  the  sweater  and  under  his  arm  was  a 
football.  Again  the  applause,  quite  as  hearty  as  before, 
while  the  strains  of  "Up  the  Street"  came  from  the 
orchestra. 

Chub,  who  came  next,  represented  a  Princeton  base- 
ball player,  striped  stockings  on  his  sturdy  legs,  gray 
shirt  over  his  black  jersey,  a  gray  cap  set  rakishly  over 
his  smiling  face  and  a  mask  and  ball  under  his  arm. 
The  applause  seemed  to  be  more  a  tribute  to  Chub,  the 
captain  of  the  Ferry  Hill  Nine,  than  to  the  picture  he 
made  or  the  college  he  represented.  After  the  music 
of  "Old  Nassau"  had  ceased  the  curtain  fell  once  more. 
Then  followed  Warren  as  a  Cornell  oarsman,  Gallup 
as  a  Columbia  tennis  player  and  Tom  Forrest,  with  a 
sixteen-pound  hammer  behind  him,  poised  for  a  throw. 
Forrest  wore  Dartmouth's  colors  and  made  an  unmis- 
takable hit. 

But  the  audience  was  agog  for  the  next  picture. 
Harry  had  devised  the  tableaux  and  had  insisted  upon 
being  allowed  to  appear  as  Vassar.  And  although  to 
Jack  and  Chub  and  Roy  a  girl's  college  had  seemed  out 
of  place  on  the  programme,  yet  they  were  too  grateful 
to  Harry  for  her  assistance  to  think  of  refusing  her.. 


162  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

And  when  the  curtain  rolled  up  for  the  last  time  they 
were  all  very  glad  they  had  n't.  For  Harry  was  the 
success  of  the  evening. 

She  was  standing  two-thirds-face  to  the  audience,  a 
black  mortar-board  cap  on  her  head,  a  flowing  black 
gown  reaching  to  her  feet  and  a  book  under  her  arm. 
The  pose  was  grace  itself.  But  the  crowning  glory  of  the 
picture  was  Harry's  hair.  She  had  coiled  it  at  the  back 
of  her  little  head,  thereby  adding  several  years  to  her 
apparent  age,  and  the  intense  light  of  the  sizzing  gas- 
jets  made  it  glow  and  shimmer  like  red  gold.  A  very 
bright,  happy  and  demure-looking  Vassar  student  she 
made,  and  a  pretty  one,  too.  Roy,  watching  from  the 
wings,  could  hardly  believe  that  the  smiling,  grown-up 
young  lady  in  front  of  him  was  the  red-haired  little 
minx  who  had  "sassed"  him  so  sharply  in  the  stable 
yard  that  first  day  of  their  acquaintance! 

The  applause  grew  and  grew ;  at  the  back  of  the  hall 
John,  the  gardener,  had  forgotten  his  awe  of  the  sur- 
roundings and  was  "hurrahing"  loudly,  egged  on  by 
the  admiring  women  servants.  And  then  suddenly  the 
applause  gave  place  to  cries  of  alarm.  Persons  in  the 
front  row  sprang  to  their  feet.  Those  behind  them 
pushed  back  their  chairs  and,  without  knowing  the 
cause,  became  imbued  with  the  panic  of  those  in  front. 
Someone  cried  "Fire!"  and  instantly  the  place  was  in 
an  uproar. 

But  those  in  the  wings  had  seen  as  quickly  as  those 
in  the  audience,  and  it  was  Roy  who  dashed  across  the 
stage,  picked  Harry  bodily  from  the  dais,  laid  her  down 


THE  ENTERTAINMENT 

and  crushed  the  flames  out  of  her  black  gown  with  his 
hands  before  scarcely  any  of  the  others  had  recovered 
from  their  momentary  panic.  Harry,  white-faced  but 
silent  through  it  all,  was  helped  unharmed  to  her  feet 
and  the  curtain  came  down  with  a  rush.  It  had  been 
"a  narrow  squeak,"  as  Chub  excitedly  termed  it,  but, 
save  for  a  fright,  Harry  was  none  the  worse  for  the 
happening.  But  the  same  could  not  be  said  for  her 
black  gown.  It  had  fluttered  against  one  of  the  gas- 
jets,  caught  fire  and  had  been  burned  away  for  a  space 
of  several  feet  up  one  side.  Doctor  and  Mrs.  Emery 
joined  Roy,  Mr.  Cobb  and  Jack  as  they  conducted  Harry 
to  the  dressing-room  and  they  were  both  embarrassingly 
profuse  in  their  praise  of  Roy's  presence  of  mind.  The 
Doctor  insisted  on  shaking  hands  and  it  was  then  that 
the  discovery  was  made  that  while  the  rescued  had  es- 
caped injury  the  rescuer  had  not.  Both  of  Roy's  hands 
were  pretty  badly  scorched,  although  Roy  tried  to  con- 
vince them  that  they  were  n't.  Mr.  Cobb  sent  for  oil 
and  bandages  and  Harry,  in  order  to  reassure  the  au- 
dience, was  led  before  the  curtain,  where  she  received 
applause  more  hearty  than  ever.  The  incident  had  ef- 
fectually ended  the  evening's  performance  and  the  sing- 
ing of  the  school  song  was  omitted.  When  Harry  came 
back  to  the  dressing-room,  still  pale  and  rather  sober, 
she  walked  over  to  Roy  who  was  seated  awaiting  the 
"first  aid  to  the  injured,"  and,  to  his  surprise,  leaned 
impulsively  over  and  kissed  his  cheek. 

"Please,  Roy,"  she  whispered,  "thank  you  very, 
very  much !  And — and  I  'm  sorry  I  was  so  low-down 
mean  '" 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  DEFEAT,  A  VICTORY  AND  A   CHALLENGE 

IT  's  a  peculiar  fact  that  no  matter  how  glad  a 
chap  may  be  to  get  home  he  's  equally  delighted  to 
get  back  to  school.  At  least,  that  's  the  way  with 
most  fellows,  and  it  was  the  way  with  Roy.  Vacation 
seemed  over  almost  before  it  had  begun,  and  then,  one 
bright,  snowy  January  morning  when  the  new  year  was 
but  a  few  days  old,  he  woke  up  to  find  himself  snuggled 
under  the  yellow  comforter  that  adorned  his  bed  in 
the  Senior  Dormitory.  And  before  he  could  gather 
courage  to  slip  even  one  foot  out  into  the  cold  there 
was  a  rush  on  the  stairs  and  Chub,  all  blue  pajamas 
and  grins,  was  on  him  like  a  small  tornado,  had  thrown 
the  coverings  in  all  directions  and  had  dragged  him 
out  on  to  the  unsympathetic  floor.  Jack  bore  down 
to  see  justice  done  and  Tom  Forrest,  holding  a  bath 
towel  about  him,  paused  on  his  way  back  from  the 
wash-room  to  watch  and  give  encouragement.  Roy  and 
Chub  had  it  out  on  the  next  bed  and  Chub  eventually 
begged  for  mercy  from  beneath  a  feather  pillow.  And 
subsequently    they    dashed    down-stairs    together    and 

164 


A  DEFEAT,  A  VICTORY  AND  A  CHALLENGE        165 

reached  the  dining  room  just  on  the  nick  of  time,  feel' 
ing  like  hungry  colts. 

Yes,  it  was  mighty  good  to  be  back  again,  even 
though  mid-winter  exams  were  due  in  a  few  days.  Roy 
had  missed  Chub  and  Jack  and  the  others,  and  even  his 
brother's  breathless  narrative  of  the  Yale-Harvard 
game  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  Crimson  right-tackle 
who  had  become  next  year's  captain  had  n't  seemed 
half  so  wonderful  as  it  would  have  a  year  before. 
Chub's  badly-spelled  letter  regarding  the  outlook  for  the 
Ferry  Hill  Hockey  Team  had  been  much  more  inter- 
esting. 

The  rink  was  flooded  that  afternoon,  a  round  two 
dozen  boys  working  with  a  will  at  the  pump  which 
drew  water  from  the  river  and  ran  it  through  an  iron 
pipe  into  the  enclosure.  It  was  a  cold  day — the  ther- 
mometer read  eight  degrees  above  at  four  o'clock— and 
although  the  river  was  frozen  only  along  the  banks  and 
out  near  Fox  Island,  there  was  no  doubt  but  that  they 
would  have  a  nice  sheet  of  ice  for  the  morrow's  prac- 
tice. Chub  borrowed  a  thermometer  from  the  kitchen 
window — without  telling  anyone  about  it— and  hung 
it  outside  his  own  casement.  Sid  solemnly  affirmed 
that  Chub  was  leaning  out  of  the  window  reading  the 
thermometer  by  moonlight  every  time  he  woke  up.  And 
as  Chub  observed  scathingly  that  Sid  was  never  known 
to  wake  up  from  the  time  he  went  to  sleep  until  he  was 
pulled  on  to  the  floor  in  the  morning,  Sid's  statement 
doubtless  held  some  truth. 


166  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

Chub  was  at  Roy's  bedside  the  next  morning  long 
before  the  rising  bell  had  rung.  As  he  had  no  business 
there  at  that  time,  he  moved  and  spoke  very  cautiously. 

"It  's  four  below,  Roy ! "    he  whispered. 

"Huh?"  asked  Roy  sleepily. 

'  It  's  four  below  zero,  you  lazy  chump  ! ' ' 

'Who?     What?" 

' '  The  thermometer !  What  did  you  think  I  was  talk- 
ing about?" 

"Thought  you  might  mean  the  dormitory,"  answered 
Roy,  now  thoroughly  awake,  drawing  the  bed  clothes 
closer  about  him  and  shivering. 

"Pshaw,  you  're  not  cold!     Come  on;  get  up." 

"Bell  rung?" 

"No,  but  it  will  in  a  minute." 

"Then  you  'd  better  sneak  out  of  here  before  Cobb 
sees  you.     There  's  Ferris  got  his  eye  on  you  now." 

"If  he  tells  on  me  I  '11  break  his  neck,"  answered 
Chub  from  between  chattering  teeth.  "What  time  is 
practice  ? ' ' 

"Four  o'clock." 

"All  right.  Guess  I  '11  sneak  back.  I  'm  going  to 
play  cover-point,  eh?" 

"Yes,  I  guess  so — as  long  as  you  last." 

Then  he  dived  under  the  clothes  for  protection. 

That  afternoon  the  hockey  team  got  down  to  real 
business.  It  was  rather  confused  business,  to  be  sure, 
for  many  of  the  two  dozen  candidates  had  never  played 
the  game  before  and  some  few  of  them  were  none  too 


A  DEFEAT,  A  VICTORY  AND  A  CHALLENGE        167 

sure  on  their  feet,  or,  rather,  skates.  But  Mr.  Cobb 
was  on  hand,  and  Roy  explained  and  instructed  too,  and 
soon  some  order  grew  out  of  chaos. 

After  that  every  week  day  afternoon  saw  the  candi- 
dates at  work  on  the  rink,  save  once  or  twice  when 
thaws  softened  the  ice.  Hockey  took  hold  of  the  school 
with  a  vim,  and  those  who  were  not  entitled  to  use  the 
rink  secured  sticks  and  pucks  and  went  at  it  on  the  river. 
At  the  end  of  two  weeks  of  practice  a  first  and  a  sec- 
ond team  had  been  chosen  and  games  between  them 
occurred  daily.  Three  candidates  dropped  out;  the 
others,  not  of  first  choice,  were  retained  as  substitutes 
and  always  got  into  the  games  for  a  short  while  at 
least.  Meanwhile  Roy's  temporary  captaincy  had  been 
made  permanent  by  unanimous  vote,  Jack  had  been 
elected  manager  and  Chub  treasurer.  A  challenge  was 
drawn  up  and  delivered  to  Hammond  Academy,  was 
accepted  and  three  games  were  arranged  to  settle  the 
ice  hockey  supremacy.  The  first  was  scheduled  for 
January  20th,  and  although  a  thaw  had  set  in  the 
evening  before  and  made  the  skating  surface  far  from 
perfect,  the  contest  came  off  at  three  o'clock  on  the 
date  set. 

The  team  which  started  the  game  for  Ferry  Hill 
was  made  up  of  Rogers,  right  end,  Warren,  right  cen- 
ter, Kirby,  left  center,  Porter,  left  end,  Eaton,  cover- 
point,  Bacon,  point,  Hadden,  goal.  But  almost  all  of 
the  substitutes  had  their  chances  before  the  game  was 
over.    Roy,  Warren  and  Chub  played  finely,  and  Had- 


168  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE 

den,  considering  the  fact  that  he  had  never  before 
played  goal  in  a  hockey  game,  did  excellent  work  and 
stopped  some  difficult  shots.  But  Hammond's  players 
were  all  experienced  and  the  result  was  not  long  in 
doubt.  Ferry  Hill  really  deserved  commendation  for 
keeping  Hammond's  score  down  to  eight  and  for  getting 
two  goals  herself,  the  latter  in  the  last  period  of  play. 
There  were  many  faults  to  correct  and  that  game  served 
an  excellent  purpose  if  it  did  no  more  than  show  up 
the  weak  places  on  the  Ferry  Hill  team.  The  stick- 
work  was  still  pretty  ragged,  the  forwards  let  their 
over-eagerness  get  them  into  many  an  off-side  play, 
fchey  failed  to  follow  up  as  they  should  have  and  Bacon, 
at  point,  continually  allowed  himself  to  be  drawn  out 
of  his  position.  But  every  fellow  had  played  hard  and 
the  faults  were  all  such  as  could  be  largely  remedied  in 
subsequent  practice. 

A  few  days  later  a  challenge  to  play  a  game  with 
Prentice  Military  Academy  on  the  latter 's  rink  came 
by  telephone  and  Jack  accepted.  The  team,  attended  by 
fully  two-thirds  of  the  school,  journeyed  down  to  Pren- 
tice the  following  Saturday  afternoon  and  won  its  first 
game  by  a  score  of  6  to  4.  This  sounds  better  than  it 
really  was,  for  Prentice  could  n't  boast  of  a  very  strong 
team.  However,  the  result  of  the  game  encouraged 
Ferry  Hill,  and  the  fellows  went  to  work  again  on 
Monday  afternoon  with  redoubled  vigor.  Jack  Rogers, 
who  had  not  been  playing  as  well  as  he  was  capable 
of,  found  himself  about  this  time  and  developed  rapidly 


A  DEFEAT,  A  VICTORY  AND  A  CHALLENGE        169 

Into  a  hard,  fast  forward,  passing  brilliantly  and  mak- 
ing an  excellent  team-mate  for  Warren,  who,  next  to 
Roy,  was  the  best  member  of  the  team.  By  the  time 
the  second  Hammond  game  arrived  many  of  the  more 
glaring  faults  had  been  eliminated.  Bacon  had  fallen 
back  to  substitute,  his  place  at  point  having  been  won 
by  Gallup. 

Ferry  Hill  crossed  to  Hammond  that  afternoon  for 
the  second  game  of  the  series  resolved  to  even  things 
up  by  winning  one  contest  at  least  of  the  three.  And, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was  on  unfamiliar  ice, 
and  that  the  cheers  of  Ferry  Hill's  handful  of  sup- 
porters were  quite  drowned  out  by  the  throng  of  Ham- 
mondites,  she  succeeded.  The  first  half  ended  with  the 
score  3  to  1  in  favor  of  the  Cherry  and  Black,  after 
Ferry  Hill  had  played  on  the  defensive  almost  every 
minute  of  the  time.  But  in  the  last  period  Ferry  Hill 
took  a  brace,  got  the  puck  away  from  her  opponent 
a  few  minutes  after  play  began  and  scored  her  second 
goal.  She  followed  this  less  than  two  minutes  later  with 
a  third,  so  tying  the  score.  After  that  play  was  fast 
and  furious.  Ferry  Hill  forced  it  hard.  The  next 
try-at-goal  was  by  Hammond,  and  although  it  looked 
as  though  the  puck  entered  the  cage  and  bounded  out 
the  goal  was  not  allowed.  Hammond  had  a  good  deal 
to  say  about  that  and  play  came  to  a  standstill  for 
several  minutes.  But  the  referee,  a  gentleman  of  their 
own  choosing,  held  to  his  decision.  But  even  had  that 
goal  been  awarded  to  Hammond  the  game  would  still 


170  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

have  gone  to  Ferry  Hill,  for  Jack  Rogers  and  Warren, 
playing  together  like  veterans,  took  the  puck  down  the 
rink  when  play  was  resumed  and  shot  a  goal  that 
could  n't  be  questioned.  That  goal  was  Jack's  second. 
Hammond  made  it  interesting  for  the  Brown  and  White 
after  that,  making  try  after  try,  but  Hadden  stopped 
everything  that  reached  him.  With  only  a  very  few 
minutes  to  play  Kirby  stole  the  rubber  from  a  Ham- 
mond forward,  passed  it  to  Roy  across  the  rink  and 
followed  up  in  time  to  receive  it  back  again  near  the 
center.  He  lost  it  for  an  instant,  recovered  it,  shot  it 
against  the  boards  ahead  of  Roy,  who  found  it  as  it 
carromed  away,  checked  the  Hammond  point  and  gave 
Roy  a  clean  chance  at  the  cage.  Roy  took  the  chance 
and  lifted  the  puck  past  goal's  knees.  There  was  no 
more  scoring  and  5  to  3  were  the  final  figures.  Ferry 
Hill  went  home  very  well  pleased  with  herself,  and  no 
one  received  more  praise  than  Hadden,  whose  steady, 
brilliant  work  at  the  goal  had  contributed  more  than 
anything  else  to  the  victory. 

The  final  game  of  the  series  was  not  due  until  tw* 
weeks  later  and  during  those  two  weeks  Ferry  Hil* 
worked  like  Trojans.  But  before  that  final  contest 
was  decided  Ferry  Hill  and  Hammond  had  again  met 
on  the  ice  and  tried  conclusions,  and  although  there 
was  no  hockey  in  this  contest  it  was  quite  as  exciting 
while  it  lasted.     It  came  about  in  this  way. 

Hammond's  right  end  and  captain  was  a  big  yellow- 


A  DEFEAT,  A  VICTORY  AND  A  CHALLENGE        171 

haired  giant  named  Schonberg,  a  brilliant  player  and 
a  wonderful  skater,  if  the  tales  one  heard  of  him  were 
true.  Possibly  the  fact  that  in  the  recent  game  Boy, 
who  opposed  him,  had  outplayed  him,  wounded  his  van- 
ity. At  all  events  Horace  Burlen  approached  Jack 
Rogers  one  morning  a  few  days  after  the  game  with  an 
open  letter  in  his  hand  and  a  frown  on  his  brow. 

"Look  at  this  thing  from  Hammond,  will  you,  Jack," 
he  said.  "They  've  challenged  us  to  a  skating  race  on 
the  river.  Any  time  and  any  distance  we  like,  they 
say;  hang  their  cheek!" 

Jack  stopped  and  read  the  letter. 

"Well,  I  guess  they  've  got  us  there,"  he  said.  "I 
don't  know  of  any  fellow  who  would  stand  the  ghost 
of  a  chance  against  that  chap  Schonberg." 

"Well,  I  hate  to  refuse,"  replied  Horace  import- 
antly. ' '  It  seems  to  me  we  ought  to  accept  the  challenge 
even  if  we  get  beaten." 

"I  suppose  we  ought,"  said  Jack,  "but  you  '11  find 
it  pretty  hard  to  find  a  fellow  willing  to  try  conclusions 
with  Schonberg." 

"I  'd  try  it  myself,"  said  Horace  carelessly,  "but 
I  'm  terribly  out  of  practice ;  have  n  't  been  on  the 
ice  more  than  two  or  three  times  this  winter." 

' '  You  be  blowed  ! ' '  answered  Jack  impolitely.  ' '  Why 
Schonberg  would  leave  you  standing!  Me,  too,  for  that 
matter.     I  '11  talk  the  thing  over  with  Boy  Porter." 

"Think  he  would  stand  any  show?"     asked  Horace. 


172  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"Roy?  I  don't  know.  He  's  a  pretty  good  skater 
on  the  rink,  but  I  don't  know  what  he  can  do  at  any 
distance." 

"Well,  if  he  likes  to  try,  he  may,"  said  Horace  mag- 
nanimously. 

"I  '11  tell  him  so,"  replied  Jack  dryly.  "You 
need  n't  send  any  answer  for  a  day  or  so,  and  mean- 
while we  '11  see  what  can  be  done.  It  seems  too  bad 
not  to  even  try;  I  'd  hate  to  have  Hammond  think 
we  were  afraid  of  her  or  that  we  were  n't  willing  to 
risk  a  defeat.  Yes,  I  '11  speak  to  Roy  and  see  what 
he  suggests." 

"Well,  of  course  you  understand,"  said  Horace, 
"that  the  matter  is  in  my  charge.  If  you  can  find 
anyone,  all  right;  only  you'd  better  let  me  know  about 
it  before  you  call  the  thing  decided ;  I  might  not  approve 
of  the  fellow." 

"Oh,  that  's  all  right.  Maybe,  after  all,  you  'd  bet- 
ter find  a  chap  yourself.  I  'm  rather  busy  just  now 
with  exams — " 

"No,  you  go  ahead,"  interrupted  Horace  quickly. 
"What  I  was  trying  to  get  at  was — well,  you  under- 
stand, Jack ;  Porter  does  n  't  like  me,  you  know,  and 
I  don't  know  what  he  might  do;  you  spoke  of  consult- 
ing him,  you  know." 

"Well,  if  we  find  any  fellow  he  '11  probably  be  one 
of  the  hockey  men,  and  as  Roy  's  the  captain  it  seems 
to  me — " 

"Oh,  all  right.    You  see  what  we  can  do." 


A  DEFEAT,  A  VICTORY  AND  A  CHALLENGE         173 

Half  an  hour  later  Jack  was  talking  it  over  with  Roy. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  can  do  at  racing,"  he  said, 
"but  if  you  think  you  'd  make  any  sort  of  a  showing 
I  think  you  'd  ought  to  try.    But  you  can  do  as  you  like. ' ' 

' '  I  would  n  't  stand  any  chance  with  that  Dutchman, ' ' 
answered  Roy,  "but  if  you  can't  find  anyone  else  I  '11 
race  him.    I  don't  mind  being  beaten." 

So  the  matter  stood  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  in  fact 
until  the  next  forenoon.  Then  Roy  was  paying  a  call 
on  the  menagerie  between  examinations  at  the  invitation 
of  Harry,  who  had  lately  become  the  proud  possessor 
of  a  litter  of  three  Angora  kittens.  Roy's  advice  was 
wanted  in  the  delicate  matter  of  deciding  which  one 
of  the  three  was  to  be  kept  and  which  two  were  to  be 
given  away  to  friends  at  Miss  Cutler's.  That  moment- 
ous question  decided  and  the  attractive  points  of  the 
three  little  bunches  of  fur  having  been  set  forth  by 
Harry,  Roy  made  the  rounds  of  the  "cages,"  as  he 
called  the  various  boxes  and  receptacles  which  held  the 
pets.  Methuselah  had  long  ago  recovered  the  full  use 
of  his  voice  and  was  willing  to  prove  the  fact  on  any 
occasion.  He  had  become  quite  attached  to  Roy  and 
would  sit  on  the  edge  of  his  box  with  eyes  closed  in 
seraphic  bliss  as  long  as  Roy  would  scratch  his  head. 
To-day  he  talked  incessantly  from  the  time  they  entered 
the  "winter  quarters,"  which  was  an  old  harness  room 
in  a  corner  of  the  smallest  stable,  until  they  left  to 
walk  back  over  the  ice-crusted  boards  to  School  Hall. 
It  was  during  that  walk  that  Roy  chanced  to  tell  of 


174  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE 

Hammond's  challenge.  Harry  was  intensely  patriotic 
and  the  situation  worried  her  for  several  minutes. 

"There  is  n't  a  boy  here  that  can  skate,"  she  said 
scornfully.  "They  're  all  duffers.  Unless — "  she  shot 
a  glance  at  Roy — "unless  you  can?" 

"Not  much,"  answered  her  companion.  "I  can  work 
around  a  rink  all  right  enough,  but  I  never  skated  in 
a  race  in  my  life." 

"Then  we  '11  be  beaten,"  said  Harry  dolefully. 
"And  I  hate  that  iceberg  boy!" 

"Schonberg,"   corrected  Roy  laughingly. 

"Well,  some  kind  of  an  old  berg.  I  wish — "  Harry 
paused  and  walked  for  a  minute  in  silence.  Then  she 
turned  with  sparkling  eyes.     "I  know!"     she  cried. 

"What  do  you  know?" 

"There  's  just  one— person  here  that  would  stand 
any  chance  with  Iceberg." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"It  is  n't  a  he,"  answered  Harry  mysteriously. 

"Not  a  he?     Then  who— what— ?" 

"It  's  me,  stupid!" 

"You?     But—" 

"Now  don't  you  go  and  make  a  lot  of  objections," 
cried  Harry.  "I  know  I  'm  not  a  boy,  but  I  belong 
to  the  school — and  I  can  skate ;  you  ask  any  of  the  boys ; 
ask  Chub  or  Jack — or  Horace.  So  it  's  all  settled. 
All  you  've  got  to  do  is  to  write  and  tell  Hammond 
that  we  '11  race  her  any  afternoon  that  the  ice  will  bear. 
But  you  need  n't  say  it  's  me,  you  know.     See?     Tell 


A  DEFEAT,  A  VICTORY  AND  A  CHALLENGE        175 

them  we  have  n't  decided  yet — No,  that  would  n't  be 
the  truth,  would  it,  for  we  have  decided;  at  least,  I 
have.  Just  tell  them  that — that  we  '11  race  them,  and 
don't  say  anything  about  who." 

"That  's  great,"  laughed  Roy,  "and  if  Jack— and 
Horace— are  willing,  I  am.  And  I  hope  you  '11  beat 
him,  Harry.  How  far  do  you  want  to  race?  They 
said  any  distance." 

"Then  we  '11  decide  that  when  the  time  comes," 
answered  Harry.  "Maybe  a  mile,  maybe  a  quarter; 
we  '11  see  how  the  ice  is,  and  the  wind  and  all  that. 
And  you  'd  better  arrange  it  for  a  week  from  today, 
and  I  '11  just  practice  up  all  I  can.  That  's  all  settled 
then,  is  n't  it?" 

"It  certainly  sounds  so,"  laughed  Roy.  "And,"  he 
added  as  the  clock  in  School  Hall  tower  rang  eleven, 
"I  wish  you  'd  settle  my  Latin  exam  as  easily!" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

"just  for  the  school!" 

THERE  was  a  stiff,  biting  wind  blowing  straight 
down  the  river,  nipping  the  fingers  and  toes  of  the 
crowd  about  the  landing  and  whirling  away  the  smoke 
from  the  chimney  of  the  boat-house.  Overhead  the 
winter  sky  was  leaden  and  sullen  clouds  were  driving 
southward.  Underfoot  the  ice  rang  hard  as  steel,  and, 
save  for  a  space  in  mid-river,  was  as  smooth  as  a 
mirror.  It  was  well  on  toward  four  o'clock  and  al- 
ready the  shadows  along  the  banks  hinted  of  coming 
night.  Hammond  and  Ferry  Hill  were  hobnobbing 
about  the  boat-house  stove  or  out  on  the  ice  in  front 
of  the  landing.  The  terms  of  the  race  had  been  ar- 
ranged and  the  big,  yellow-haired  Schonberg  was  idly 
cutting  figures  in  and  out  of  the  group  to  keep  him- 
self warm.  The  race  was  to  be  a  half-mile  long,  start- 
ing here  at  the  Ferry  Hill  landing,  crossing  straight 
as  a  strip  of  weak  ice  would  permit  to  a  point  on  the 
Hammond  side  of  the  river  and  returning  again  to  the 
landing,  finishing  at  a  mark  indicated  by  an  empty 
nail  keg  and  a  broken  soap  box  set  some  twenty  yards 

176 


"JUST  FOR  THE  SCHOOL!"  177 

from  shore.  All  that  remained  of  the  preliminaries 
was  for  Ferry  Hill  to  produce  her  entry.  Mr.  Cobb, 
who  was  to  act  as  starter,  timer,  judge  and  everything 
else  of  an  official  sort,  looked  at  his  watch  and  an- 
nounced that  it  was  time  to  start.  Schonberg  stopped 
his  capers,  removed  his  sweater  and  skated  to  the  mark, 
looking  about  with  pardonable  curiosity  for  a  sight  of 
his  adversary.  Horace  and  Harry  emerged  from  the 
throng  and  joined  him. 

"This  is  Mr.  Schonberg,  Harry,"  said  Horace. 
"Schonberg,  my  cousin,  Miss  Emery." 

Harry  bowed  gravely  in  her  best  society  manner  and 
Schonberg  made  a  futile  grab  at  his  knit  cap. 

"Happy  to  meet  you,"  he  muttered.  Then,  possibly 
for  want  of  something  better  to  say,  he  turned  to  Horace 
and  asked: 

"When  are  you  chaps  going  to  be  ready?" 

"We  're  ready  now,"  answered  Horace  soberly. 
Schonberg  looked  about  him.  The  crowd  had  sur- 
rounded the  mark  by  this  time  and  Mr.  Cobb  had  his 
watch  in  hand. 

"Where  's  your  man,  Burlen?"  asked  Custis,  Ham- 
mond's senior  class  president. 

"Right  here,"  answered  Horace,  indicating  Harry. 
' '  Miss  Emery  is  our  man. ' ' 

Hammond  howled  with  laughter.  Harry's  cheeks 
reddened  and  her  eyes  flashed. 

"You  're  joking,  are  n't  you?"    asked  Custis. 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  Horace  impatiently. 


178  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE 

"But,  I  say,  Burlen,  that  's  poppycock,  you  knowi 
We  did  n't  challenge  a  girl's  school!" 

"That  's  all  right,"  said  Burlen.  "We  said  we  'd 
race  you,  and  we  will.  Miss  Emery  is  Doctor  Emery's 
daughter  and  she  belongs  to  the  school  just  as  much 
as  any  of  us.    If  you  're  afraid  to  race  her — " 

"Don't  be  a  fool!  Of  course  we  're  not  afraid,  but 
— but  it  's  such  nonsense  ! ' ' 

"Course  it  is,"  broke  in  Schonberg.  "I  did  n't  come 
over  here  to  race  a  girl!" 

"Then  you  should  n't  have  agreed  to  our  terms," 
answered  Jack,  joining  the  discussion.  "We  told  you 
plainly  in  our  letter  that  we  would  race  you  if  you  'd 
allow  us  to  name  our  entry  any  time  before  the  race. 
We  've  decided  and  there  she  is.  If  you  have  any  idea, 
Schonberg,  that  you  've  got  an  easy  thing — well,  just 
try  it.  Miss  Emery  's  our  best  skater,  and  she  's  so 
good  that  we  're  not  ashamed  to  acknowledge  it.  And 
as  we  knew  that  Schonberg  was  an  A-l  skater  we  thought 
our  best  would  n't  be  any  too  good." 

"Oh,  all  right,"  said  Custis,  with  a  shrug  of  his 
shoulders,  "if  you  insist  I  guess  we   're  willing." 

"I  'm  not,"  said  Schonberg.     "I  won't  race  a  girl." 

And  Schonberg  held  out  for  many  minutes  and  had 
to  be  argued  with,  and  coaxed  by,  half  the  Hammond 
contingent.  But  finally  he  yielded,  though  with  ill 
grace,  and  took  his  place  at  the  mark. 

"All  right,"  he  said.     "I  'm  ready." 

Harry  took  her  place  a  yard  away,  the  throng  pushed 


"JUST  FOK  THE  SCHOOL!"  179 

back  and  Mr.  Cobb  drew  out  his  starting  pistol.  Those 
of  the  boys  who  were  on  skates,  and  most  of  them  were, 
prepared  to  follow  the  contestants. 

Harry  wore  a  brown  sweater  and  a  short  gray  skirt. 
Her  skating  boots  were  securely  fastened  to  a  pair  of 
long-bladed  racing  skates.  Her  head  was  bare  and  the 
wind  blew  her  red  tresses  about  her  face  as  she  awaited 
the  signal.  There  was  a  little  spot  of  intense  color  in 
each  cheek  and  her  blue  eyes  flashed  venomously  when 
Schonberg  turned  to  glance  at  her  half  contemptuously. 
If  she  had  needed  any  incentive  to  do  her  level  best 
within  the  next  few  minutes  Schonberg 's  pronuncia- 
tion of  the  word  "girl"  had  supplied  it.  Harry  was 
insulted  and  indignant,  and  Roy,  watching  her  from 
a  little  distance,  guessed  something  of  her  feelings  and 
took  hope.  No  one  really  expected  Harry  to  win.  That 
a  fourteen-year-old  girl  should  beat  a  seventeen-year- 
old  boy  was  out  of  the  question.  Schonberg,  too,  was 
known  to  be  as  good  a  skater  as  Hammond  had  had  for 
many  years.  But  every  fellow  had  implicit  faith  in 
Harry  and  knew  that  she  would  give  the  Hammond 
skater  as  hard  a  race  as  he  had  ever  had.  Mr.  Cobb 
raised  his  pistol. 

' '  On  your  mark !    Get  ready !    Set ! ' ' 

Then  the  pistol  spoke  sharply  on  the  winter  air  and 
the  two  contestants,  the  brown  sweater  and  the  red  jer- 
sey, shot  ahead  in  a  mad  scramble.  The  throng  followed 
and  for  a  moment  the  ring  of  steel  on  the  hard  ice  was 
the  only  sound.  Then  the  racers,   having  found  their 


180  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

paces,  settled  down  to  work.  They  were  side  by  side, 
a  bare  three  yards  dividing  them.  Just  behind  them 
skated  the  foremost  of  the  spectators,  Roy  and  Warren 
and  Jack  leading.  If  Schonberg  had  entertained  any 
idea  of  having  the  race  to  himself  he  was  disillusioned 
during  the  first  fifty  yards.  Once  he  threw  a  glance 
at  the  girl.  After  that  he  settled  down  to  work  and 
wasted  no  time.  He  skated  wonderfully  well  and  even 
the  throng  of  Ferry  Hill  boys  behind  could  not  but 
envy  him  his  speed  and  grace.  Body  well  over,  legs 
gliding  back  and  forth  from  the  hips,  head  up  and  arms 
kept  rather  close  in,  Schonberg  fairly  flew  over  the  ice. 

And  beside  him  sped  Harry. 

Harry  was  not  the  accomplished  skater  that  her  rival 
was.  She  was  graceful  and  she  had  speed,  but  she 
showed  far  more  effort  than  did  the  Hammond  boy,  her 
strides  being  shorter  and  her  little  brown-clad  arms 
swinging  back  and  forth  like  bits  of  machinery.  Half 
way  across  it  became  necessary  to  hold  well  to  the  right 
to  avoid  the  patch  of  weak  ice,  but  Harry  was  the  last 
to  leave  the  straight  course  and  Schonberg  had  to  either 
spurt  ahead  of  her  and  bear  up-river  or  fall  behind. 
He  chose  the  latter  alternative,  eased  his  pace  a  moment, 
shot  behind  her  and  made  for  the  lowest  point  of  safe 
ice.  For  a  moment  longer  Harry  clung  to  her  straight 
course.  Then  she  swung  up-stream  a  trifle  and  fol- 
lowed him  a  yard  behind,  seemingly  paying  but  little 
heed  to  the  streaks  of  snow-ice  ahead. 

Schonberg  rounded  the  danger  point  and  made  straight 
for  the  farther  bank  where  the  limb  of  a  black  birch 


"JUST  FOE  THE  SCHOOL?"  181 

had  been  placed  a  few  yards  from  shore  to  serve  as  a 
turning  mark.  Harry  had  lost  ground  during  the  last 
few  moments,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  had  held 
closer  to  the  direct  course  between  shore  and  shore,  and 
was  now  fully  twenty  feet  behind.  Few  of  the  audience 
went  beyond  mid-stream,  but  stopped  there  and 
watched  the  racers  reach  the  farther  mark,  swing 
around  inside  of  it  and  turn  back  across  the  river. 
Prom  where  Roy  and  Jack  stood  it  looked  as  though 
Harry  had  made  up  a  little  of  her  lost  ground,  but 
it  was  hard  to  tell  at  that  distance. 

"He  will  simply  skate  away  from  her  coming  back," 
said  Jack. 

"She  's  making  a  dandy  race,  though,"  Roy  re- 
sponded. "I  did  n't  think  she  'd  do  as  well  as  she  has, 
did  you?" 

"Yes,  but  I  've  seen  Harry  skate  before  this.  Gee! 
Just  look  at  the  way  that  Dutchman  is  coming ! ' ' 

Already  Schonberg  was  half  way  across  to  them,  head- 
ing for  where  they  stood  at  the  up-stream  end  of  the 
snow-ice.  Behind  him,  how  far  behind  it  was  difficult 
to  determine,  came  Harry,  a  brown  and  gray  spot  in  the 
deepening  twilight.  Jack  and  Roy  turned  and  followed 
the  others  slowly  back  toward  the  finish.  When  next 
they  looked  around  Schonberg  was  almost  up  to  them 
and  Harry — 

"Where  the  dickens  is  she?"  cried  Roy. 

"There,"  answered  Jack,  pointing.  "What  's  she  up 
to?    She  can't  be  going  to  try  that  weak  ice!" 

But  plainly  she  was.     Not  one  foot  from  the  direct 


182  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

line  between  turning  point  and  finish  did  Harry  swerve. 
Schonberg  was  well  up-stream  from  her,  but  no  nearer 
the  finish,  for  he  had  gone  out  of  his  way  to  avoid  the 
weak  ice.  Roy  shouted  a  warning  and  Jack  waved 
wildly,  but  Harry,  if  she  saw,  paid  no  heed.  Straight 
onward  she  came,  her  skates  fairly  twinkling  over  the 
ice,  her  little  body  swaying  from  side  to  side.  Then, 
before  any  of  the  watchers  could  even  turn  back  to 
head  her  off,  she  was  skimming  over  the  white  streaks 
of  soft  snow-ice. 

Roy  and  Jack  and  one  or  two  others  sped  down-stream 
toward  her.  Roy  strove  to  remember  what  it  was  best 
to  do  when  folks  went  through  the  ice  and  wondered 
where  there  was  a  rope  or  a  plank.  Once  his  heart 
stood  still  for  an  instant,  for  Harry  had  stumbled  and 
nearly  fallen.  But  she  found  her  pace  again  almost 
instantly  and  came  on,  skirting  a  black  pool  of  open 
water.  She  was  gaining  on  Schonberg  at  every  ring  of 
her  skates,  and  that  youth,  who  had  now  discovered  her 
tactics,  was  making  for  the  finish  with  all  his  might, 
Before  Roy  or  Jack  had  reached  the  margin  of  the  dan- 
gerous stretch  Harry  had  left  it  behind  her  and  waa 
once  more  on  hard  ice.  As  she  swept  past  at  a  little 
distance  she  glanced  up  and  smiled  triumphantly. 

"Go  on,  Harry!"  they  cried  in  unison,  and  turned 
and  sped  after  her. 

She  had  gained  many  yards  over  Schonberg  and  as 
their  converging  paths  brought  them  nearer  and  nearer 
together  this   gain   became   apparent.     Roy   and   Jack 


"JUST  FOR  THE  SCHOOL!"  183 

skated  as  hard  as  they  could  go,  and,  being  untired, 
were  close  up  behind  Harry  when  the  finish  line  was 
a  bare  fifty  feet  away.  Almost  beside  them  came  Schon- 
berg,  his  head  down  and  every  muscle  tense  with  his 
efforts  to  reach  the  line  ahead  of  his  adversary.  But 
he  was  a  good  six  yards  to  the  bad.  Hammond  and 
Ferry  Hill  filled  the  twilight  with  their  clamor  and 
the  wooded  bank  threw  back  the  frantic  cries  of  "Come 
on,  Schon!"     "Go  it,  Harry!"     "Skate!     Skate!" 

And  skate  they  did,  the  cherry-red  jersey  and  the 
(brown  sweater.  Schonberg  made  a  last  despairing  effort 
when  twenty  feet  from  the  line  and  fairly  ate  up  the  ice, 
but  even  as  he  did  so  Harry  brought  her  feet  together, 
pulled  herself  erect  and  slid  over  the  finish  three  yards 
ahead,  beating  her  adversary,  as  Chub  said,  "in  a 
walk!" 

The  throngs  surrounded  the  racers,  and  Harry, 
flushed  of  face,  panting  and  laughing,  was  applauded 
and  congratulated  until  the  din  was  deafening.  Then 
Schonberg  pushed  his  way  through  the  ranks  of  her 
admirers,  his  red  face  smiling  stiffly.  He  held  out  his 
hand  to  Harry  and  removed  his  red  cap. 

' '  You  're  a  bully  skater,  Miss  Emery, ' '  he  said.  ' '  But 
I  guess  you  would  n't  have  won  if  you  had  n't  taken 
a  short  cut." 

"No,  I  would  n't,"  answered  Harry  with  the  mag- 
nanimity of  the  conqueror.  "You  'd  have  beaten  me 
easily. ' ' 

Schonberg 's  smile  became  more  amiable. 


184  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"Anyway,  I  can  beat  any  of  the  fellows  here,"  he 
said,  recovering  some  degree  of  self-sufficiency.  And 
no  one  contradicted  him.  "You  took  big  risks  when 
you  came  across  that  rotten  ice,"  he  went  on.  "I 
would  n't  have  tried  that  for  a  thousand  dollars!" 

"You  would  n't?"  asked  Harry,  opening  her  blue 
eyes  very  wide.  "Why,  I  'd  do  it  any  day— and  just 
for  the  School!" 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  HOCKEY  CHAMPIONSHIP  IS  DECIDED 

ROY  had  passed  his  examinations  without  flunking 
in  a  thing,  and  while  that  may  not  sound  like  much 
of  an  achievement  to  you  who  doubtless  are  accustomed 
to  winning  all  sorts  of  honors,  it  pleased  him  hugely. 
They  had  proved  pretty  stiff,  those  exams,  and  he  had 
trembled  in  his  shoes  considerably  when  the  day  for 
the  announcement  of  results  had  come.  But  it  was  all 
right.  To  be  sure,  68  in  English  was  n't  anything  to 
brag  about,  but  he  was  happier  over  that  than  the  92 
in  Latin,  which  was  his  highest  mark. 

Jack  received  one  of  the  six  scholarships,  which  car- 
ried with  it  beside  the  honor  sufficient  money  to  cancel 
the  year's  tuition  fee.  Chub,  too,  was  happy.  He  was 
happy  because  he  had  failed  only  in  Mathematics  where 
he  had  feared  to  fail  all  along  the  line. 

I  don't  know  whether  Roy's  mother  was  pleased;  pos- 
sibly not ;  possibly  she  had  not  entirely  relinquished  her 
hopes  of  a  scholarship  for  him.  But  Roy's  father,  if 
his  letter  was  to  be  believed,  was  in  the  seventh  heaven 
of  bliss.    Roy  scowled  a  good  deal  over  that  letter,  for 

185 


186  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

it  sounded  a  bit  sarcastic  here  and  there !  Mentally 
he  resolved  to  do  a  whole  lot  better  and  get  higher 
marks  in  June. 

"I  just  wish  Dad  had  that  exam  to  buck  against," 
he  muttered.  "I  '11  bet  he  'd  make  a  mighty  mean  show- 
ing !     Maybe  then  he  would  n  't  write  such  letters ! ' ' 

The  letter,  though,  had  accomplished  just  what  Mr. 
Porter  had  intended  it  should;  it  had  made  Roy  dis- 
satisfied with  his  showing  and  resolved  to  do  better  the 
next  time.  And,  in  case  I  fail  to  record  the  fact  in 
its  proper  place,  be  it  known  here  and  now  that  he  did 
do  better,  considerably  better,  so  well,  in  fact,  .hat  his 
mother's  waning  hopes  of  scholarship  honors  flourished 
anew. 

Those  examinations  left  Horace  Burlen  in  a  peck  of 
trouble.  He  had  failed  in  two  studies  and  was  conse- 
quently ineligible  for  crew  work  until  he  had  made 
them  up.  And  as  Horace  was  Crew  captain  and  Num- 
ber Three  in  the  boat,  the  whole  school  became  interested 
in  his  predicament.  To  his  honor  be  it  said,  however, 
that  he  buckled  down  at  once  to  make  them  up,  and 
Mr.  Buckman,  who  was  the  rowing  coach  and  adviser, 
helped  him  to  what  extent  the  rules  allowed.  Crew 
practice  began  usually  in  the  first  week  of  March,  leav- 
ing less  than  a  month  for  Horace  to  square  himself  in 
the  two  studies.  Those  who  did  n't  like  him  smiled 
wickedly  and  ' '  guessed  there  'd  be  a  new  captain  chosen 
next  month."  Horace's  friends  and  adherents,  con- 
sisting nowadays  of  about  a  third  of  the  students,  de- 


THE  HOCKEY  CHAMPIONSHIP  IS  DECIDED  187 

clarecl  that  lie  would  n't  have  any  trouble  and  advised 
the  scoffers  to  ''just  watch  him!" 

Meanwhile  there  was  the  ice  hockey  supremacy  to  be 
determined.  Ferry  Hill  had  scored  another  victory, 
this  time  over  the  Whittier  Collegiate  Institute  team, 
twelve  goals  to  nine,  and  had  practised  diligently  and 
enthusiastically  every  possible  moment.  And  so  when, 
on  a  bright,  cold  Saturday  afternoon,  Hammond 
crossed  the  river  for  the  third  and  deciding  contest, 
Ferry  Hill  was  in  high  feather  and  was  looking  for  a 
victory. 

Pride  goeth  before  a  fall. 

Ferry  Hill's  team  was  made  up  as  in  the  first  game 
of  the  series  save  that  Gallup  was  at  point  in  place 
of  Bacon,  who  had  fallen  back  to  the  second  team. 
The  ice  was  hard  and  smooth,  the  barriers  were  lined 
with  spectators,  the  cheers  of  Hammond  and  Ferry 
Hill  arose  alternately  into  the  still,  frosty  air.  Harry 
watched  breathlessly  with  Spot  in  her  arms  and  Mr. 
Cobb  tossed  a  puck  into  the  center  of  the  rink  and 
skated  back. 

"Ready,  Hammond?" 

"Ready,  Ferry  Hill?" 

Then  the  whistle  piped  merrily,  Warren  secured  the 
puck  and  passed  it  back  to  Kirby  and  the  game  was  on. 
Skates  rang  against  the  ice  as  the  brown-clad  forwards 
spread  out  across  the  rink  and  raced  for  the  opponent's 
goal.  Kirby  passed  to  Roy,  Roy  passed  across  to  War- 
ren, Warren  overskated,  Rogers  doubled  back  and  res- 


188  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

cued  the  disk,  passing  it  across  to  Roy  again,  Ham- 
mond's right-end  charged,  Roy  slipped  past  him  against 
the  barrier  and  got  the  puck  once  more,  eluded  the 
cover-point  and  passed  to  Warren,  Warren  worked  the 
puck  to  within  ten  feet  of  the  net  and,  with  half  the 
team  hitting  and  hacking  at  his  stick,  shot  the  first 
goal.     Ferry  Hill,  1;  Hammond,  0. 

But  Hammond  broke  up  the  attack  very  nicely  the 
next  time,  secured  the  puck  and  charged  down  the  rink 
like  a  troop  of  cavalry.  Gallup  was  decoyed  to  the  left, 
Hadden  was  caught  napping  and  the  whistle  blew. 
Ferry  Hill,  1 ;  Hammond,  1.  Hadden  remorsefully 
kicked  the  snowy  disk  of  rubber  out  from  the  net  and 
smote  it  wrathfully  with  his  stick. 

"My  fault,  Roy,"  he  said. 

"That  's  all  right,"  answered  the  captain.  "Gallup, 
you  were  out  of  place  that  time.  Remember  that  you 
take  the  puck  and  not  the  man.  All  together  now, 
fellows,  get  after  them ! ' ' 

Hammond  secured  the  puck  at  the  face  and  for  sev- 
eral minutes  the  battle  raged  hotly,  now  here,  now  there. 
Hadden  stopped  two  tries  neatly,  Chub  stole  the  disk 
from  a  Hammond  forward  and  took  it  down  the  rink, 
skating  like  a  cyclone — if  cyclones  may  be  said  to  skate 
—only  to  miss  his  try  at  goal  by  a  bare  two  inches. 
Twice  play  was  stopped  for  off-side  work  and  once 
Warren  was  cautioned  by  Mr.  Cobb  against  roughness. 
Then,  when  the  Hammond  Point  had  lifted  the  puck 
far  down  the  rink,   Gallup  was  slow  in  returning  it 


THE  HOCKEY  CHAMPIONSHIP  IS  DECIDED  189 

and  the  speedy  Schonberg  was  down  on  him  like  a  flash, 
had  stolen  the  puck  from  under  his  nose  and,  charging 
past  Chub,  who  had  come  to  the  rescue,  had  shot  it 
between  Hadden's  feet  for  the  third  goal. 

After  that  Fortune  favored  Hammond  while  the  half 
lasted.  Her  players  worked  like  one  man  instead  of 
seven  and  when  the  whistle  blew  the  score  looked  fright- 
fully one-sided ;  Hammond,  5 ;  Ferry  Hill,  1. 

"I  guess  they  're  too  much  for  us,"  panted  Jack 
as  he  struggled  into  his  sweater.     Roy  nodded  soberly. 

"I  never  saw  better  team-work,"  he  muttered. 
"Well,  it  's  all  in  a  lifetime." 

"Well,  look  at  the  experience  they  've  had,"  said 
Kirby.  "I  11  bet  that  next  year  we  '11—" 

Roy  turned  on  him  sharply. 

"That  '11  do  for  you,"  he  answered.  "Never  mind 
next  year,  think  of  the  next  half.  Time  enough  for 
next  year  when  we  're  beaten.  I  dare  say  they  will 
beat  us,  but  if  you  think,  Kirby,  that  I  'm  going  to 
be  satisfied  with  any  such  score  as  they  've  piled  up 
on  us  now  you  're  mightily  mistaken.  What  we  want 
to  do  is  to  get  the  jump  on  those  chaps  and  everlast- 
ingly push  them  around  the  shop  ! ' ' 

Mr.  Cobb,  who  had  come  up  in  time  to  hear  the 
remark,   smiled   approval. 

"That  's  right,"  he  said.  "You  forwards  must  get 
together  better  and  you  must  take  chances.  There  's 
not  much  use  waiting  to  get  in  front  of  their  goal 
before  shooting  because  they  've  got  a  fine  defense  and 


190  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

a  dandy  point.  Force  the  playing,  shoot  whenever 
there  's  the  ghost  of  a  chance  and  check  harder.  You 
must  be  careful  about  the  way  you  treat  those  fellows 
along  the  boards,  Warren;  I  would  n't  have  been  far 
wrong  if  I  'd  laid  you  off  for  a  couple  of  minutes  that 
time. ' ' 

"I  guess  you  did  n't  see  what  he  was  doing  to  me," 
said  Warren. 

"No,  I  did  n't.  But  you  know  mighty  well  that  we 
don't  stand  for  slugging  here,  no  matter  what  the  other 
chap  does." 

"That  's  all  right,"  muttered  Warren,  ''but  if  any 
chap  thinks  he  can  slash  my  shins  all  the  time  and  not 
get  hurt  he  's  a  good  bit  mistaken." 

"Well,  don't  you  try  it  on  when  I  'm  coaching  or 
refereeing, "  warned  Mr.  Cobb  coldly.  "If  you  do — 
look  out!" 

Warren  made  no  reply. 

The  substitutes  and  members  of  the  second  team  had 
taken  possession  of  the  rink  and  Bacon  was  guarding 
goal  against  the  assaults  of  half  a  dozen  swooping, 
charging  players.  At  the  far  end  Hammond  was 
perched  along  the  barrier,  laughing  and  fooling,  al- 
ready practically  certain  of  victory.  Roy,  watching,  set 
his  jaws  together  and  resolved  that  if  Hammond  added 
to  her  present  score  it  would  be  only  after  the  hardest 
playing  she  had  ever  done ! 

"You  're  not  going  to  let  them  win,  are  you,  Roy?" 

Roy    turned   to   find   Harry    beside   him   with    Spot 


THE  HOCKEY  CHAMPIONSHIP  IS  DECIDED         191 

wriggling  and  twisting  in  her  arms.  Roy  petted  him 
and  had  his  cheek  licked  before  he  replied.     Then, 

"I  'm  afraid  we  can't  keep  them  from  beating  us, 
Harry,"  he  answered,  "but  we  're  going  to  make  a  lot 
better  showing  in  this  half  than  we  did  in  the  last." 

"Does  your  wrist  hurt?"  asked  Harry,  glancing  .so- 
licitously at  the  silk  bandage  about  it.  Roy  shook  his 
head. 

"No,  but  it  is  n't  right  strong  yet  and  Mr.  Cobb 
thought  I  'd  better  wear  this  rather  than  run  any 
danger  of  putting  it  out  of  place  again.  How  's  Methu- 
selah ? ' ' 

"Fine  and  dandy,"  answered  Harry  cheerfully. 
' '  You  must  come  and  see  him ;  I  think  he  gets  rather 
dull  sometimes.  I  've  got  some  more  white  mice.  That 
makes  sixteen.  I  wish  I  knew  what  to  do  with  them. 
Dad  says  I  '11  have  to  kill  them,  but  I  just  could  n't 
do  it." 

' '  Why  not  turn  them  loose  ? ' '  asked  Roy. 

Harry  giggled. 

"I  tried  that  and  some  of  them  came  back  and  went 
up  to  John's  room  and  he  found  one  in  his  boot  in  the 
morning.  He  was  terribly  mad  about  it.  John  's  very 
short   tempered,   you  know." 

"He  must  be,"  laughed  Roy. 

"Yes.  And  then  yesterday  he  found  two  in  the  grain- 
chest  and  told  Dad.  I  don't  think  it  was  nice  of  him 
to  tell,  do  you?    And  Dad  says  I  '11  have  to  kill  them." 

"I  tell  you  what,"  said  Roy.    "You  keep  them  until 


THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

warm  weather  and  we  '11  take  them  off  somewhere  and 
let  them  loose.  I  don't  believe  they  'd  ever  get  back 
again. ' ' 

"But  they  might  die!" 

"I  don't  believe  so.  Anyway,  they  'd  have  a  fight- 
ing chance,  and  if  you  kill  them  they  won 't  have.    See  ? ' ' 

"John  said  I  ought  to  buy  an  owl,"  said  Harry 
disgustedly,"  and  feed  them  to  him.  As  though  I 
would!" 

"John  's  a  brute,"  said  Roy.  "How  about  the 
squabs  1 ' ' 

"Oh,  they  're  coming  fast!  There  are  twelve  al- 
ready. I — I  wish  they  would  n't  hatch.  I  hate  to 
have  them  killed." 

"Mighty  fine  eating,  squabs,"  said  Roy  teasingly. 
Harry  shot  an  indignant  glance  at  him. 

"Any  person  who  'd  eat  a  squab,"  she  cried,  "de- 
serves to  be— to  be—" 

But  Roy  did  n't  learn  what  such  a  person  deserved, 
for  at  that  moment  Mr.  Cobb  summoned  the  teams  out 
again.  Roy  peeled  off  his  crimson  sweater,  looked  to 
his  skate  straps  and  called  to  Jack.  When  the  latter 
had  skated  up  Roy  talked  to  him  earnestly  for  a  moment. 

"All  ready,  Porter?"  cried  Warren. 

' '  About  six  or  eight  feet  from  the  corner  of  the  goal, ' ' 
finished  Roy.  "And  bang  it  in  without  waiting  for 
anything.     Understand  ? ' ' 

Jack  nodded  and  the  two  skated  to  their  places.  War- 
ren and  the  opposing  left-center  laid  their  sticks  on 


THE  HOCKEY  CHAMPIONSHIP  IS  DECIDED         193 

either  side  of  the  puck  and  the  whistle  sounded.  There 
was  an  instant  of  shoving  and  pushing  and  then  the 
puck  shot  back  to  the  Hammond  side.  Over  to  the 
boards  it  went,  the  Hammond  forwards  strung  out  and 
dug  their  skates  into  the  ice  and  the  puck  came  down 
to  the  Ferry  Hill  goal,  flying  back  and  forth  from  one 
forward  to  another  like  a  shuttle.  Chub  checked  the 
Hammond  right-center  and  the  two  went  to  the  ice 
together,  a  confused  mass  of  legs  and  arms  and  sticks. 
Gallup  slashed  wildly  at  Schonberg's  stick,  Hadden 
crouched  between  the  iron  posts  and  the  puck  went 
flying  over  his  shoulder  into  the  snow  outside.  The 
whistle  piped  and  the  disk  was  dug  out  of  its  refuge 
and  returned  to  the  ice  just  in  front  of  the  Ferry  Hill 
goal.  Chub  and  Gallup  fell  back  to  protect  Hadden, 
and  Roy  and  Schonberg  faced  off.  There  was  a  moment 
of  wild  hacking  of  stick  against  stick,  then  the  puck 
slid  through  Roy's  skates,  and  Schonberg,  reaching 
around  him,  made  a  quick  slash  that  sent  it  rolling 
into  the  corner  of  the  goal.  Hammond,  6 ;  Ferry  Hill, 
1.  Hadden  vented  his  disgust  by  smashing  his  stick 
and  had  to  have  a  new  one.  Back  to  the  center  of 
the  ice  went  the  puck,  while  the  Hammond  supporter* 
cheered  and  laughed. 

Again  Hammond  got  possession  of  the  disk  at  th* 
face  and  again  the  cherry  jerseys  sped  down  the  rink. 
Then  smash !  went  Roy  into  Schonberg  and  the  puck 
was  his  and  he  was  dribbling  it  along  the  boards.  A 
Hammond  forward  charged  him,  but  Roy  passed  the 


194  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATEE 

puck  inside,  passed  outside  himself  and  recovered  it 
beyond.  From  the  other  side  of  the  rink  came  Jack's 
voice. 

"All  right,  Roy!" 

Past  cover-point  went  Roy,  and  then,  just  as  point 
flew  out  toward  him,  he  shot  the  puck  at  an  angle  against 
the  boards  just  back  of  goal.  He  went  down  the  next 
moment  before  the  savage  bodychecking  of  point,  but 
he  did  n't  mind,  for  the  puck,  carroming  against  the 
barrier,  had  shot  out  at  the  other  side  of  goal  where 
Jack  was  awaiting  it  and  was  now  reposing  coyly  in 
the  farthermost  corner  of  the  netting.  Ferry  Hill  went 
wild  with  joy.  Six  to  two  sounded  far  more  encourag- 
ing than  had  six  to  one.  Hockey  sticks  waved  in  air 
as  the  players  skated  back  to  their  places. 

"That  's  the  stuff,  fellows!"  called  Roy.  "Good 
shot,  Jack!    Now  let  's  have  another  one!" 

But  there  were  no  more  goals  for  a  while,  although 
the  game  went  fast  and  furious.  Gallup  received  a 
cut  over  the  left  eye  that  sent  him  out  of  the  game  and 
Bacon  took  his  place.  Then  the  Hammond  left-center 
was  put  off  for  two  minutes  for  tripping  and  Ferry 
Hill  thought  she  had  found  her  chance  to  score  again. 
But  Hammond's  remaining  six  played  so  well  that 
Ferrjr  Hill  was  held  off  until  the  penalized  player 
returned  to  the  game.  Along  the  boards  the  watchers 
were  kicking  their  shoes  to  bring  warmth  to  their  feet. 
The  sun  had  dropped  behind  the  wooded  hills  across 
the  river  and  the  rink  was  in  shadow. 


THE  HOCKEY  CHAMPIONSHIP  IS  DECIDED        195 

Presently  Perry  Hill  had  the  puck  in  the  middle  of 
the  ice  and  her  forwards  flew  to  their  places.  Down 
the  rink  they  charged,  the  disk  flying  from  Kirby  to 
Warren,  from  Warren  to  Jack  Rogers  and  ultimately 
from  the  latter 's  stick  past  goal's  knees  into  the  net. 
Hammond,  6;  Ferry  Hill,  3. 

There  were  eight  minutes  more  to  play.  Ferry  Hill 
seemed  to  have  found  her  pace  at  last;  perhaps  the 
last  two  goals  had  encouraged  her.  At  all  events  she 
played  as  she  had  never  played  all  season.  Roy  was 
a  streak  of  greased  lightning,  Jack  was  a  tornado,  War- 
ren and  Kirby  shot  about  as  though  they  had  wings 
on  their  shoes  instead  of  mere  steel  runners,  Chub  was 
a  bull-dog  and  a  fierce  and  speedy  one,  Bacon  seemed 
to  have  eyes  in  the  back  of  his  head  and  Hadden  was 
invulnerable.  Ferry  Hill  was  forcing  the  playing  now 
and  for  minutes  at  a  time  she  appeared  to  have  things 
all  her  own  way.  Only  the  Hammond  goal-tend  saved 
the  day  for  the  Cherry  and  Black.  Time  and  again 
he  was  the  only  defense  left  and  time  and  again  he 
turned  seeming  success  into  failure  for  the  swooping 
enemy.  Then  came  another  carrom  back  of  goal,  again 
Jack  was  on  the  spot  and  once  more  the  Ferry  Hill 
sticks  danced  in  air.     Hammond,  6 ;  Ferry  Hill,  4 ! 

Hammond  was  beginning  to  show  herself  tuckered. 
Her  right-center  was  plainly  played  out  and  gave  his 
place  to  a  new  man.  Even  Schonberg  exhibited  signs 
of  failing  strength  and  no  longer  played  with  the  dash 
and  brilliancy  with  which  he  had  begun  the  contest. 


196  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

And  as  the  enemy  weakened  Ferry  Hill  strengthened. 
Schonberg  went  to  the  ice  and  his  stick  flew  out  of  his 
hand  while  Roy  flew  on  with  the  puck  slipping  along 
in  front  of  him.  Kirby  sent  cover-point  out  of  the 
play,  the  disk  slid  along  the  snowy  ice  to  Warren  and 
he  lifted  it  at  goal.  Goal-tender  stopped  it  with  his 
knee,  slashed  it  aside  and  crouched  at  the  corner  of  the 
net.  Roy  turned  on  his  heel,  found  the  puck  as  it  flew 
by  and  rushed  back  to  goal.  The  whole  Hammond  team 
was  about  him  and  sticks  banged  and  whizzed.  It  was 
a  bedlam  of  cries  and  whacks  and  the  grind  of  steel 
on  ice.  Science  was  forgotten  for  the  moment;  Ham- 
mond was  fighting  tooth  and  nail  to  drive  back  the 
invader.  Once  the  puck  was  wrested  from  Ferry  Hill 
and  shot  back  up  the  ice  to  the  middle  of  the  rink, 
but  Chub  was  awaiting  it  and  brought  it  back,  speeding 
along  like  an  express  train.  He  passed  to  Kirby  in 
time  to  fool  a  Hammond  forward,  dodged,  received  the 
puck  again  and  charged  down  on  goal,  dispersing  the 
foe  by  the  sheer  impetus.  Sticks  flew  about  his  feet 
and  point  threw  himself  at  him.  Then  came  a  quick 
side  pass  to  Roy,  the  sharp  sound  of  stick  against  puck 
and  the  ring  of  the  iron  post  as  the  hard  rubber  disk 
struck  it  and  glanced  in.  Five  to  six,  and  Ferry  Hill 
coming  all  the  time !  How  the  brown-decked  boys  along 
the  sides  yelled !     Mr.  Cobb  consulted  the  time-keeper. 

"Two  minutes  left!"     he  called. 

"Time  enough  to  win  in!"  shouted  Roy. 

"Sure!"  answered  Jack  triumphantly.     With  sticks 


THE  HOCKEY  CHAMPIONSHIP  IS  DECIDED        197 

gyrating  they  sped  back  to  their  positions.  But  Ham- 
mond was  in  no  hurry  now  and  the  time-keeper  kept 
his  eyes  carefully  on  his  stop-watch  until  finally  the 
whistle  shrilled  again.  Then  back  to  the  fray  went 
the  brown  jerseys  and  over  the  ice  sped  the  Ferry  Hill 
skates.  A  rush  down  the  rink  and  again  the  Hammond 
goal  was  in  danger.  A  quick  swoop  of  Warren's  stick 
and  the  puck  was  winging  straight  for  the  goal.  But 
a  gloved  hand  met  it  and  tossed  it  aside.  Roy  swung 
circling  back  and  passed  across  to  Jack.  Another  shot, 
this  time  wide  of  the  net.  Schonberg  and  Jack  fought 
it  out  in  the  corner  and  Jack  rapped  the  disk  out  to 
Warren.  The  Hammond  cover-point  checked  his  stick 
and  secured  the  disk,  shooting  it  down  the  rink.  A 
Hammond  forward  got  it  but  was  off-side.  Warren 
joined  him  and  they  faced  near  the  center.  A  quick 
pass  to  Jack  and  the  forwards  turned  and  dug  their 
blades  into  the  ice.  Down  they  came,  charging  and 
passing,  past  cover-point,  past  point,  and  then — 

Out  shot  goal  and  away  to  the  left  rolled  the  puck. 
Roy,  turning  after  it,  shot  a  quick  glance  at  the  time- 
keeper. Then  he  was  fighting  with  a  Hammond  man 
for  possession  of  the  elusive  black  disk,  their  bodies 
crashing  against  the  boards  and  their  sticks  flying  hither 
and  thither.  But  Warren  came  to  the  rescue,  poked 
the  puck  out  from  under  the  Hammondite's  skate  and 
passed  it  across  to  Kirby  in  front  of  goal.  Another 
try  and  another  stop  by  the  Cherry's  goal-tend.  And 
so   it  went   and   so  went  the   precious   seconds.     And 


198  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

then,  suddenly,  with  the  puck  within  a  yard  of  goal 
once  more  and  Roy's  stick  raised  for  a  shot,  the  whistle 
rang  out ! 

' '  Time    's  up  ! "  announced  Mr.   Cobb. 

Roy  turned  fiercely. 

' '  It  can 't  be  up  ! "  he  cried,  skating  toward  the  referee. 

"It  is,  though,"  was  the  answer. 

"That  's  perfect  nonsense!''  said  Roy  hotly.  "You 
said  there  was  two  minutes  left  just  a  minute  ago!" 

"That  '11  do,  Porter,"  said  Mr.  Cobb  coldly. 

Roy  dropped  his  eyes,  swallowed  something  hard  in 
his  throat  and  examined  a  cut  on  his  hand.     Then, 

"Beg  pardon,  sir,"  he  said.  "This  way,  fellows! 
A  cheer  for  Hammond — and  make  it  good!" 

Well,  it  was  n't  very  good.  But  then  you  can 
scarcely  blame  them  when  another  second  would  perhaps 
have  tied  the  score.  But  they  cheered,  and  Hammond 
answered  it;  and  the  hockey  season  had  ended  with  a 
defeat  for  Ferry  Hill.  Schonberg  skated  over  to  Roy 
and  held  out  his  hand. 

"You  had  us  on  the  run,  Porter,"  he  said.  "If 
we  'd  played  five  minutes  longer  you  'd  have  won. 
You  've  got  a  slick  team,  all  right !  How  about  next 
year?    You  're  going  to  keep  the  team  up,  are  n't  you?" 

"Sure,"  answered  Roy.  "And  we  're  going  to  lick 
the  stuffing  out  of  you!" 

The   rival   captain   laughed   good-naturedly. 

' '  That  's  right.  We  've  had  a  dandy  time  playing  you 
chaps  and  we  '11  be  ready  again  next  year.    Good-bye." 


THE  HOCKEY  CHAMPIONSHIP  IS  DECIDED  199 

"Good-bye,"  answered  Roy  as  graciously  as  he  could. 
"Glad  you  fellows  came  over." 

He  turned  and  found  Jack  beside  Mm. 

"Say,  Jack,"  lie  asked,  "what  's  the  longest  period 
of  time  you  can  think  of?" 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Jack  soberly.  "What  's 
the  answer?" 

"One  year,"  was  the  glum  reply. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


ON  POX  ISLAND 


SPRING  came  suddenly  that  year.  They  woke  up 
one  morning  to  find  the  river  flowing  warmly  blue 
and  free  of  ice,  the  walks  running  with  crystal  water 
and  the  bricks  steaming  in  the  fervid  sunshine.  Winter 
had  disappeared  over  night  and  Spring  had  come  to 
its  own  again.  With  the  awakening  of  the  new  season 
came  the  awakening  of  new  interests.  The  crew  can- 
didates, who  for  weeks  past  had  been  toiling  inglori- 
ously  at  the  rowing  machines  in  the  basement  of  the 
gymnasium,  went  trooping  down  the  path  to  the  river 
and  launched  their  shells.  The  baseball  candidates  who 
had  been  throwing  and  batting  in  the  cage  and  sliding 
to  bases  over  the  hard  floor  trotted  out  to  the  field  in 
search  of  a  dry  spot  whereon  to  hold  their  first  outdoor 
practice.  With  the  former  went  Horace  Burlen,  free 
at  last,  in  spite  of  his  enemies'  croakings,  of  all  condi- 
tions, and  Hadden  and  Gallup  and  Whitcomb  and  Otto 
Ferris  and  others.     With  the  baseball  candidates  went 

200 


ON  FOX  ISLAND  201 

Chub,  Roy,  Bacon,  Kirby,  Post  and  many  more.  And 
— oh,  yes — Sid  Welch!  Sid  had  entertained  hopes  of 
making  the  second  crew,  but  such  hopes  had  been  sadly 
shattered.  And  as  Sid  had  to  be  trying  for  something 
to  be  content  he  naturally  went  in  for  the  only  first- 
class  sport  left. 

"I  think,"  he  confided  to  Chub,  "I  think  I  'd  like 
to  play  shortstop." 

"Just  as  you  say,  Sid,"  Chub  answered  gravely. 
"All  you  '11  have  to  do  will  be  to  beat  Bacon  out  for 
the  position.  You  're  sure  you  would  n't  rather  pitch? 
Post  and  Kirby,  you  know,  are  n't  so  much  of  a  much- 
ness but  what  you  could  beat  'em  with  a  little  practice." 

"Well,  anyhow,  I  don't  see  why  I  could  n't  be  a 
fielder,"  answered  Sid  good-naturedly.  "You  '11  give 
me  a  show,  won't  you,  Chub?" 

' '  Course  I  will,  Sid, ' '  answered  Chub  heartily.  ' '  You 
come  along  out  and  we  '11  see  what  you  can  do.  First 
of  all,  though,  we  '11  take  a  little  of  that  fat  off  you." 

"I  've  been  trying  to  get  rid  of  it,"  Sid  replied 
earnestly  and  sadly,  "but  it  does  n't  seem  to  do  any 
good.  I  have  n't  eaten  any  bread  or  potato  or  pud- 
din'  for  days  and  days!" 

"Never  mind  the  bread  and  potato,  Sid,"  said  Chub 
with  a  laugh.    "I  know  a  better  way." 

"What?"  asked  the  other  interestedly. 

"Chasing  flies,  my  boy!"  was  the  answer. 

March  was  kind  to  them.  It  gave  them  a  clear  two 
weeks  of  fair  weather  at  the  end.    To  be  sure,  the  wir>  1 


202  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

howled  dismally  sometimes  and  it  was  often  cold  enough 
to  make  fingers  stiff,  but  it  allowed  them  to  stay  out 
of  doors  and  that  was  the  main  thing.  April,  however, 
started  in  meanly.  Ten  days  of  drizzle  and  wet  fields 
affected  even  Chub's  temper.  But  everything,  even  a 
spell  of  rainy  weather,  must  come  to  an  end  some  time, 
and  the  second  week  of  April  brought  back  sunny  skies 
and  mild  days.  And  after  that  affairs  went  briskly 
on  the  diamond. 

Roy  had  kept  his  promise  to  his  chum,  a  promise 
made  on  the  occasion  of  their  first  meeting  and  re-made 
several  times  since.  For  Chub  had  got  it  into  his  head 
that  Roy  had  the  making  of  a  baseball  player  and  never 
allowed  him  to  forget  for  a  moment  all  winter  long 
that  he  had  agreed  to  try  for  the  team. 

"You  ought  to  make  a  good  baseman,"  Chub  said 
once,  looking  over  his  friend  with  the  eye  of  a  con- 
noisseur. "Maybe  third — or  even  first.  You  've  got 
height  and  a  good  long  reach;  and  you  're  quick  and 
heady.  Patten  's  the  only  fellow  I  know  of  who  's  after 
first  base.  He  was  substitute  last  year.  He  's  not  bad, 
but  he  's  not  an  expert  by  a  long  shot.  Just  you  come 
out,  old  man,  and  see  what  you  can  do." 

And  Roy  promised  for  the  twentieth  time. 

Training  table  was  started  the  middle  of  April,  with 
Mr.  Cobb  in  command.  By  that  time  the  candidates 
had  been  weeded  out  until  there  were  but  fourteen  left. 
The  "culls,"  as  Chub  called  them,  went  toward  the 
making  up   of  the  second  team.     There  was  practice 


ON  FOX  ISLAND  203 

every  afternoon  save  Sunday,  usually  ending  with  a 
short  game  with  the  second  nine,  the  latter  strengthened 
hy  the  presence  of  Mr.  Cobb,  who  played  first  base  or 
pitched  as  occasion  required.  Roy  bought  a  rule-book 
early  in  the  season  and  studied  it  diligently,  following 
it  up  later  with  an  invaluable  blue-covered  pamphlet 
which  told  him  exactly  how  to  play  every  position  on 
the  team.  In  the  end,  however,  he  discovered  that  the 
best  way  to  learn  baseball  is  to  play  it. 

Chub  started  him  at  left-field  and  kept  him  there 
until  he  had  learned  to  judge  a  ball,  catch  it  and  field 
it  home.  It  was  hard  work,  but  Roy  liked  it.  Some- 
times, however,  he  doubted  whether  he  would  ever  vindi- 
cate Chub's  belief  in  him.  There  seemed  an  awful  lot 
to  learn  and  he  envied  the  ready  thought  displayed 
by  the  fellows  who  had  been  playing  the  game  for 
several  years.  I  think  that  Chub  would  have  strained 
a  point  to  keep  Roy  with  him  as  long  as  it  did  not  en- 
danger the  success  of  the  team,  for  by  this  time  the  two 
were  well-nigh  inseparable.  But  it  very  soon  became 
evident  that  no  favoritism  was  necessary;  Roy  deserved 
a  place  on  the  nine  by  virtue  of  his  ability.  By  the 
middle  of  April  he  was  having  a  try  at  first  and  two 
weeks  later  he  had  succeeded  to  the  position  vice  Patten 
removed  to  the  outfield. 

It  did  n't  take  him  long  to  accustom  himself  to  the 
place  and  its  requirements.  As  Chub  had  said,  he  had 
height  and  reach,  was  quick  and  steady  and  clear- 
headed.    Of  course  there  was  talk;  disgruntled  fellow? 


204  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

who  had  failed  at  making  the  team  sneered  at  Chub's 
favoritism,  and  Horace  found  time  from  his  rowing 
duties  to  try  and  stir  up  discord  amongst  the  baseball 
men.  But  Patten,  who  had  more  cause  than  anyone 
else  t"»  feel  dissatisfied,  had  nothing  to  say.  He  had 
sense  enough  to  realize  that  Chub  had  given  the  posi- 
tion to  the  best  man,  and  enough  of  the  right  sort  of 
spirit  to  be  satisfied,  so  long  as  it  was  for  the  good  of 
the  team  and  the  school.  Patten  went  out  to  right- 
field,  stifled  his  disappointment  and  "played  ball." 

Chub  must  have  been  right.  Unless  he  "has  it  in 
him"  no  boy  can  learn  to  play  baseball  well  in  three 
months,  as  Roy  did.  Perhaps,  though,  Mr.  Cobb's  coach- 
ing deserves  more  credit  than  I  am  giving  it.  He  cer- 
tainly worked  hard  with  Roy.  And  so  did  Chub.  And 
the  other  members  of  the  nine,  amongst  whom  Roy  was 
highly  popular,  helped,  perhaps  unconsciously,  to  give 
him  self-confidence  in  the  early  days  of  his  novitiate. 
So,  it  seems,  the  Fates  worked  together  to  fashion  him 
into  a  baseball  player  much  to  the  regret  of  Mr.  Buck- 
man  who  had  entertained  hopes  of  securing  him  for 
the  second  four.  But  although  Roy  liked  the  water 
well  enough  and  was  never  more  contented  than  when 
out  with  Chub  in  the  crimson  canoe,  he  was  more  at  home 
on  the  turf.  Perhaps  the  first  or  second  four  lost  a  good 
oar  when  Roy  chose  baseball  instead  of  rowing;  be  that 
as  it  may,  it  is  certain  the  nine  found  a  good  first 
baseman. 

April  recess  began  on  the  twenty-second  and  lasted 


ON  FOX  ISLAND  205 

nine  days,  from  Friday  afternoon  to  the  second  Mon- 
day morning,  although,  as  the  fellows  were  required  to 
be  back  at  School  by  Sunday  noon,  eight  days  come 
nearer  to  the  mark  than  nine.  Crew  and  baseball  candi- 
dates were  supposed  to  remain  at  Ferry  Hill  during 
this  recess  and  most  of  them  did  so.  Roy  was  undecided 
whether  to  stay  or  go  home.  Chub  begged  him  to 
remain,  putting  it  to  him  first  on  the  score  of  duty  to 
the  nine  and  then  citing  the  camping-out  on  Fox  Island 
as  an  inducement.  Roy's  mother  decided  the  mat- 
ter for  him  eventually  by  writing  that  she  was  going 
South  for  six  weeks.  She  suggested  that  Roy  join  her  at 
a  South  Carolina  winter  resort,  but  Roy  had  no  desire 
for  a  week  of  hotel  existence  and  so  threw  in  his  lot 
with  Chub,  Gallup,  Bacon,  Post,  Kirby  and  the  others. 
Jack  Rogers  went  home  and  so  did  Sid,  who  had  been 
working  hard  on  the  second  nine  and  showing  quite 
a  little  promise.  Doctor  and  Mrs.  Emery  took  a  week's 
vacation,  but  Harry  was  left  behind — greatly  to  her 
delight — because  her  holidays  did  not  come  until  later. 
Mr.  Cobb,  too,  disappeared  from  the  scene  and  the 
charge  of  the  school  was  left  in  Mr.  Buckman's  hands. 
Saturday  was  the  first  day  of  the  recess  and  Roy 
and  Chub  spent  the  morning  on  the  river.  They 
paddled  down  stream  for  a  mile  or  more  in  the  canoe 
and  fished,  but  with  scant  success.  In  the  afternoon 
came  baseball  practice  which  ended  with  a  six-inning 
game  with  a  Silver  Cove  team.  Sunday  was  rather 
dull    for  it  rained  torrents.     Chub,  Roy,   Gallup  and 


206  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

Post  donned  rubber  coats  or  old  sweaters  in  the  after- 
noon and  took  a  long  tramp  inland.  But  Monday  morn- 
ing dawned  bright  and  fresh  and  as  soon  as  breakfast 
was  over  the  fellows,  under  Mr.  Buckman's  direction, 
began  the  overhauling  of  the  camping  outfit.  The  four 
big  tents  were  pulled  from  their  quarters  in  the  boat 
house,  spread  out  on  the  landing  and  gone  over  for 
holes  or  weak  places.  Then  lost  pegs  were  replaced, 
new  guy-ropes  supplied  and  a  broken  ridge-pole  was 
mended.  Dinner  was  rather  a  hurried  meal  that  day, 
for  every  fellow — and  there  were  twenty-odd  left  at 
school — was  eager  to  get  into  camp.  At  three  o'clock 
the  tents  and  outfits  were  loaded  into  row  boats  and 
transferred  to  the  island.  All  af ternooii' Ifeoats  went 
back  and  forth  on  errands;  baking  powde?  had  been 
forgotten,  Gallup  wanted  his  camera,  someone  had  left 
one  of  the  hatchets  on  the  landing,  cook  had  neglected 
to  grind  the  coffee  before  packing  it,  four  more  blank- 
ets were  needed,  Mr.  Buckman  wanted  a  roll  of  adhesive 
plaster  and  a  bottle  of  arnica.  Meanwhile  the  tents 
were  erected,  the  old  cook-stove  was  set  up  and  fuel 
gathered.  At  five  o'clock,  Kirby,  under  Mr.  Buckman's 
tuition,  began  the  preparation  of  the  first  meal.  Roy 
and  Chub  and  half  a  dozen  others  built  the  camp  fire 
in  the  open  space  between  the  tents,  piling  up  the  brush 
and  slanting  the  dead  limbs  above  it  until  the  whole 
looked  like  an  Indian  wigwam.  Then  came  supper; 
bacon,  potatoes,  tea,  milk  and  "spider  cake,"  the  latter 
an  indigestible  but  delightful  concoction  of  thin  flour 


ON  FOX  ISLAND  207 

batter  poured  into   the   frying  pan   and  cooked  until 
nice  and  soggy. 

After  supper  the  camp-fire  was  lighted,  the  fellows 
spread  themselves  out  on  the  ground  about  it  and  the 
camp  went  into  executive  session.  Chub  was  elected 
Little  Chief — Mr.  Buckman  was  Big  Chief — and  Roy 
became  Medicine  Man.  Then  four  Chiefs  of  Tribe  were 
elected  and  the  honors  fell  to  Roy,  Horace  Burlen, 
Kirby  and  Pryor.  These,  in  turn,  selected  their  war- 
riors and  were  assigned  to  tents— or  tepees,  as  they 
preferred  to  call  them.  Roy 'ctLose  Chub,  Gallup,  Bacon 
and  Post;  Burlen  selected  Ferris,  Hadden,  Whitcomb 
and  Walker;  Kirby  and  Pryor  made  up  their  house- 
holds of  what  material  was  left,  each  having  five  instead 
of  six  companions  as  there  were  twenty-two  boys  in  the 
party.  Mr.  Buckman  cast  his  lot  with  Burlen 's  Utes. 
Roy's  tribe  was  christened  Seminole,  Kirby 's  Ojibway 
and  Pryor  ruled  despotically  over  the  Navajos.  Mr. 
Buckman  explained  the  camp  rules.  There  were  n't 
many  of  them,  but  they  were  strict.  The  Chiefs  of 
Tribes  could  grant  permission  to  leave  the  island  but 
were  required  to  report  the  names  of  those  leaving  to 
the  Big  Chief.  Every  tribe  must  delegate  one  of  its 
warriors  each  day  to  be  fisherman;  fishermen  must  fish 
not  less  than  two  hours  and  turn  their  catch  over  to 
the  Little  Chief.  Every  warrior  or  Chief  must  strip 
his  bed  before  breakfast  and  hang  his  blankets  in  the 
sun.  Each  tribe  must  select  a  member  to  be  cook  and 
take  his  turn  at  preparing  the  meals;  also  an  assistant 


208  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

whose  duty  it  was  to  help  and  wash  up  the  utensils. 
Prompt  attendance  at  meals  was  imperative.  Offenses 
would  be  judged  by  a  council  composed  of  the  Big  and 
Little  Chiefs,  the  Medicine  Man  and  the  four  Tribal 
Chiefs  and  punishment  would  be  meted  out  by  them. 
In  the  absence  of  the  Big  Chief  the  Little  Chief  took 
command;  in  the  absence  of  both  authority  was  vested 
in  the  Medicine  Man. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  fellows  sought  their  quarters  and 
made  their  beds,  for  which  purpose  plenty  of  pine  and 
hemlock  boughs  had  been  cut  and  piled  in  the  clearing. 
Each  tent  was  supplied  with  a  lantern  which  swung 
from  the  ridge-pole.  A  rustic  bench  held  a  half-dozen 
tin  wash-basins  and  a  looking-glass  was  hung  from  a 
tree  nearby.  By  half-past  nine  preparations  for  the 
night  were  complete  and  the  boys  gathered  again  about 
the  dying  fire  and,  kneeling,  recited  the  Lord's  Prayer. 
Then  good-nights  were  said  and  the  Tribes  separated. 
For  some  time  the  sound  of  laughter  was  heard.  Then 
quiet  fell  over  Fox  Island  and  a  big  moon,  coming  up 
over  the  tree  tops,  threw  the  four  tents  into  dazzling 
whiteness  and  paled  the  glow  of  the  dying  embers  where 
the  camp  fire  had  been. 


''Quiet  fell  over  Fox  Island" 


CHAPTER  XIX 


A  NIGHT  ALARM 


FOX  ISLAND  lay  about  two  hundred  yards  off  shore 
and  perhaps  thrice  that  distance  up-stream  from 
the  landing.  It  contained  between  an  acre  and  a  half 
and  two  acres,  was  beautifully  wooded,  stood  well  above 
flood  tide  and  was  surrounded  on  two  sides  by  beaches 
of  clean  white  sand.  Doctor  Emery  had  purchased  the 
island  some  years  before,  primarily  to  keep  away  un- 
desirable neighbors,  and  had  soon  discovered  that  it 
was  a  distinct  addition  to  the  school's  attractions.  The 
spring  camping-out  soon  became  one  of  the  most  popular 
features  of  the  year. 

The  next  morning  Chub  and  Bacon  did  the  honors  of 
the  island,  conducting  Roy  from  end  to  end  and  pointing 
out  the  historical  spots.  He  saw  Victory  Cove,  so  named 
because  it  was  the  scene  of  the  first  struggle  between 
Hammond  and  Perry  Hill  for  the  possession  of  the 
latter 's  boats,  a  struggle  in  which  the  campers  came 
out  victorious.  ("The  next  year,"  explained  Chub, 
"they  got  the  best  of  us  and  swiped  four  boats  and  we 
had  to  go  over  and  get  them  back.     But  that  did  n't 

209 


210  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

change  the  name  of  the  cove.")  He  saw  Outer  Beach, 
Gull  Point,  Hood's  Hill,  named  in  honor  of  a  former 
school  leader  and  Little  Chief,  The  Grapes,  a  bunch  of 
eight  small  rocks  just  off  the  westerly  corner, 
Treasure  Island  and  Far  Island,  two  low,  bush- 
covered  islets  of  rock  and  sand  lying  up-stream  from 
the  farther  end  of  the  island  and  divided  from  it  by 
a  few  feet  of  water  through  which  it  was  possible  to 
wade  when  the  river  is  not  very  high,  Kound  Harbor, 
Turtle  Point,  Turtle  Cove,  Round  Head,  Inner  Beach, 
Mount  Emery,  a  very  tiny  mountain  indeed,  and  School 
Point.  That  completed  the  circuit  of  the  island.  But 
it  took  them  well  over  an  hour  because  they  took  it 
very  slowly  and  neglected  nothing.  They  took  off  shoes 
and  stockings  and  waded  to  Treasure  and  Far  Islands, 
they  scrambled  up  Mount  Emery,  hunted  for  turtles 
in  Turtle  Cove— without  even  seeing  one — and  tried 
broad-jumping  on  the  Inner  Beach.  It  was  ten  o'clock 
when  they  got  back  to  camp  and  found  most  of  the 
fellows  preparing  for  a  bath.  They  followed  suit  and 
presently  were  splashing  and  diving  in  the  water  off 
Inner  Beach.  It  was  pretty  cold  at  first,  but  they  soon 
got  used  to  it.  Afterwards  they  laid  in  the  sun  on  the 
white  sand  until  Thurlow  thumped  on  a  dish  pan  with 
a  big  spoon  and  summoned  them  to  dinner.  Bathing 
suits  were  kept  on  until  it  was  time  to  return  to  the 
main  land  for  afternoon  practice.  The  island  was  prac- 
tically deserted  then,  for  but  few  of  the  campers  were 
neither  baseball  nor  crew  men. 


A  NIGHT  ALARM  211 

"Who  's  going  to  stay  here?"  asked  Chub  before 
he  pushed  off  the  boat.     Four  boys  answered. 

"Well,  you  fellows  keep  a  watch  for  Hammond. 
They  '11  be  paddling  over  here  pretty  soon,  probably 
to-day  or  to-morrow,  to  see  where  we  're  keeping  the 
boats.  If  they  come  around  don't  let  them  see  you, 
but  watch  what  they  do." 

The  quartette  promised  eagerly  to  keep  a  sharp  look- 
out and  Chub  and  Eoy  dipped  their  oars  and  rowed 
across  to  the  landing. 

When  they  returned  at  five  o'clock  the  two  four- 
oared  crews  were  just  coming  back  up-stream  to  the 
boat-house,  looking  as  though  they  had  been  through 
a  hard  afternoon's  work.  Behind  them  came  Mr.  Buck- 
man  in  his  scull,  his  small  brown  megaphone  hanging 
from  his  neck.  Across  the  darkening  water  they  could 
just  make  out  the  three  Hammond  boats  floating  down- 
stream toward  their  quarters. 

"Who  '11  win  this  year?"  asked  Roy,  as  they  took 
up  the  rowing  again. 

"Hammond,  I  guess,"  answered  Chub.  "They  usu- 
ally do.  They  did  last  year.  You  see  they  've  got 
almost  a  hundred  fellows  to  pick  from,  while  we  have 
never  had  over  fifty.     That  makes  a  difference." 

"Two  years  ago,  though."  said  Bacon,  "they  say  our 
crew  was  thirty  seconds  faster  than  theirs.  And  we 
were  light,  too.  I  don't  believe  the  size  of  the  school 
has  much  to  do  with  it." 

"Well,  it  stands  to  reason  that  the  school  that  has 


212  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE 

the  most  fellows  must  have  the  better  material,"  said 
Chub.     "Look  at  the  way  it  is  in  baseball." 

"That  may  be,"  said  Bacon,  "but  a  whole  lot  depends 
on  the  spirit  of  the  fellows  and  the  coaching." 

"Course  it  does,  but  no  matter  what  the  spirit  is, 
or  how  good  the  coaching  may  be,  four  poor  oarsmen 
can't  beat  four  good  ones.     That  's  common  sense." 

"Well,  but  a  good  coach  like  Buckman— "  began 
Bacon. 

"Is  Burlen  a  good  rower?"     interrupted  Roy. 

"Great,"  answered  Chub. 

"Dandy,"  said  Bacon. 

"Best  we    've  got,"  supplemented  Post. 

"But  I  don't  believe  he  makes  a  good  captain,"  said 
Gallup.  "Whitcomb  told  me  the  other  day  that  he 
gets  mad  as  anything  when  Buckman  calls  him  down." 

"It  's  like  him, ' '  said  Bacon.  ' ' He  never  could  stand 
being  told  anything.  Jack  's  the  only  fellow  that  could 
ever  make  him  do  anything  he  did  n't  want  to." 

"They  say  Hammond's  four  this  year  is  the  best 
they   've  ever  had,"  said  Roy. 

"They  always  say  that,"  answered  Chub  sceptically. 

"The  first  of  the  season,"  amended  Gallup.  "Later 
they  begin  to  howl  about  the  fellows  going  stale,  break- 
ing their  ankles  or  spraining  their  wrists.  Gee,  you  'd 
think  to  hear  them  talk  a  week  before  the  race  that 
they  did  n't  have  a  man  in  the  boat  who  was  n't  a 
corpse  or  a  cripple  for  life!" 


A  NIGHT  ALAEM  213 

"That  's  so,"  laughed  Bacon,  "but  you  don't  want 
to  forget  that  year  before  last  Williams  did  the  same 
thing.  He  gave  it  out  that  two  of  our  men  had  malaria 
and  would  n't  be  able  to  row.  They  did  n't  have  ma- 
laria but  they  could  n't  row  much  when  the  time  came, 
so  he  did  n't  tell  a  very  big  lie." 

"That  sort  of  thing  makes  me  tired,"  said  Roy  dis- 
gustedly. "What  's  the  use  in  trying  to  make  the 
other  fellow  think  you  're  dying.  He  does  n't  believe 
it,  anyway;  and  even  if  he  does  it  is  n't  fair  playing." 

"That  's  so,"  said  Chub  heartily.    "It  's  babyish." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Post.  "It  'a 
part  of  the  game,  and—" 

"No,  it  is  n't,"  interrupted  Roy.  "It  has  nothing 
to  do  with  the  game.  And  it  's  just  plain,  every-day 
dishonesty ! ' ' 

"I  don't  see  how  you  make  that  out,"  objected  Post. 
"Now,  supposing — " 

But  the  discussion  of  ethics  was  interrupted  by  the 
grating  of  the  boat's  keel  on  the  sand.  Gallup  jumped 
out  into  six  inches  of  water  and  pulled  the  boat  up  on 
the  beach  and  the  rest  scrambled  out. 

Nothing  had  been  seen  of  Hammond's  spies  and  so 
they  went  to  bed  without  posting  guards  that  night. 

"I  don't  see,"  observed  Roy  as  he  was  undressing, 
"why  we  don't  tie  the  boats  up  if  we  're  afraid  of 
having  Hammond  swipe  them." 

"Well,  it  would  n't  be  fair,  I  guess,"  Chub  answered. 


214  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"You  see  we  've  always  left  them  on  the  beach.  If  we 
tied  'em  Hammond  would  n't  have  any  show  to  get 
them." 

"You  talk  as  though  you  wanted  her  to  get  them,"1 
said  Roy  in  puzzled  tones. 

"We  do;  that  is,  we  want  her  to  try  and  get  them. 
If  we  take  to  tying  them  to  trees  and  things  Hammond 
will  stop  coming  over  and  we  '11  miss  more  'n  half  the 
fun  of  the  camping.    See?" 

' '  You  bet ! ' '    grunted  Post. 

"What  's  to  keep  her  from  coming  over  to-night, 
then, ' '  pursued  Roy,  ' '  and  taking  the  whole  bunch  while 
we  're  asleep." 

"Because  she  does  n't  know  where  they  are,  silly!" 
replied  Chub.  "You  don't  expect  those  fellows  are 
going  to  row  across  here  and  then  go  hunting  all  about 
the  island  in  the  dark,  do  you?  They  always  come 
spying  around  in  the  day-time  first  and  see  where  the 
boats  are  hauled  up." 

"It  won't  be  dark  to-night,"  said  Roy.  "There  's 
a  dandy  big  moon." 

' '  That  's  so,  but  Hammond  never  has  tried  it  without 
looking  about  first  and  I  guess  she  won't  this  year." 

"I  wish  I  was  a  Hammondite  for  about  three  or  four 
hours,"  said  Roy  grimly.  "I  'd  open  your  eyes  for 
you!" 

Whereupon  he  was  quickly  tried  for  a  traitor  and 
sentenced  to  be  walloped  with  a  belt.  The  walloping 
process  occupied  the  succeeding  ten  minutes  and  when 


A  NIGHT  ALAEM 

concluded— not  altogether  successfully — left  the  tent 
looking  as  though  a  cyclone  had  visited  it.  But  Chub's 
prediction  proved  correct.  The  boats  were  there  in  the 
morning,  all  five  of  them. 

''Those  Hammond  fellows  are  a  set  of  chumps," 
grunted  Roy.  "Why  don't  they  send  you  a  note  and 
tell  you  when  they  're  coming?  They  might  as  well 
do  that  as  send  fellows  over  in  a  boat  to  rubber  around. ' ' 

"Get  out!  How  are  we  going  to  know  when  they  're 
coming1?"  asked  Chub.  "Suppose  we  see  them  peek- 
ing about  to-day;  maybe  they  won't  come  for  three  or 
four  nights." 

"Then  how  do  they  know  you  won't  move  the  boats 
in  the  meantime?" 

"Why — why  we  never  do!" 

"Oh,  I  guess  I  don't  know  the  rules  of  the  game," 
sighed  Roy.     "Sounds  as  though  you  were  all  woozy." 

It  was  raining  that  morning  when  they  arose,  but 
the  rain  could  n't  quench  their  enjoyment.  A  shelter 
tent  was  put  up  and  they  all  crowded  under  it  for  break- 
fast. Afterwards  the  Utes  challenged  the  Seminoles 
to  a  game  of  ring-toss  under  the  trees.  Roy  was  assist- 
ant cook  that  day  and  so  he  and  Post — Post  being  chef — 
were  out  of  it.  The  Utes  won  and  were  much  set  up 
about  it,  issuing  challenges  indiscriminatingly  at  din- 
ner. The  four  fishermen  came  in  just  before  the  meal 
with  a  big  catch,  and  Post,  who  knew  less  about  cook- 
ing fish  than  anything  else— and  that  's  saying  a  good 
deal— was  in  despair.     After  dinner  he  and  Roy  took 


216  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

them  to  the  water  and  cleaned  them,  but  neither  thought 
to  remove  the  scales.  The  fish  were  served  for  supper 
and  there  was  a  popular  demand  for  the  speedy  lynch- 
ing of  Mr.  Post. 

"I  thought  we  ought  to  do  something  else  to  them," 
he  explained  in  extenuation,  ' '  but  I  could  n  't  think  what 
it  was!" 

"You  want  to  watch  out  pretty  sharp,"  said  Horace 
Burl  en  with  deep  sarcasm,  "or  they  '11  employ  you  to 
cook  at  the  Waldorf." 

"Fish  a  la  Post,"  murmured  Chub.  "Half  portion 
two  dollars  and  a  quarter." 

"They  'd  have  to  pay  me  more  than  that  before  I  'd 
order  any,"  responded  Gallup. 

"Post  and  Porter  ought  to  take  singing  lessons," 
said  Thurlow. 

"Why?"     asked  Hadden  unsuspectingly. 

"So  they  won't  forget  the  scales  next  time,"  an- 
swered Thurlow  proudly.  He  was  the  recipient  of  four 
slices  of  bread  and  a  portion  of  a  cup  of  water,  all 
unsolicited  and  unexpected.  Mr.  Buckman  mildly  ob- 
jected, but  appeared  to  think  the  punishment  deserved. 

It  had  stopped  drizzling  during  the  afternoon  and 
practice  had  been  held  on  a  very  wet  diamond.  Chub 
had  sustained  a  wrenched  ankle  by  slipping  while  run- 
ning bases  and  was  inclined  to  be  down  on  his  luck. 
Roy  tried  to  cheer  him  up,  but  had  scant  success.  Chub 
was  convinced  this  evening  that  the  nine  was  no  good 
and  that  certain  defeat  at  the  hands  of  Hammond  stared 


A  NIGHT  ALARM  217 

them  in  the  face.  Like  most  normally  cheerful  persons,. 
Chub  was  the  gloomiest  of  the  gloomy  when  he  decided 
to  be.  At  camp-fire  Thurlow  brought  out  his  banjo 
and  got  them  all  to  singing.  That  seemed  to  raise 
Chub's  spirits  some;  it  did  him  good,  he  declared,  to 
howl.  Later  it  started  in  drizzling  again  and  the  camp- 
ers went  to  bed  early,  tying  the  tent  flaps  securely  ere 
they  retired. 

It  was  black  night  when  Roy  awoke.  He  could  n't 
even  see  the  canvas  overhead.  He  wondered  what  had 
awakened  him  and  listened  to  the  deep  breathing  about 
him  for  a  moment.  Perhaps  Post  had  talked  in  his 
sleep ;  he  often  did.  Roy  turned  over  again  and  closed 
his  eyes.  Then  he  opened  them  quickly.  From  some- 
where came  a  sound  as  though  a  boat  was  being  drawn 
across  the  pebbles  of  a  beach.  He  listened  intently, 
tut  heard  nothing  more.  He  had  imagined  it,  he  told 
himself  sleepily.  But  he  was  n't  satisfied.  After  a 
moment  he  heard  it  again,  that  grating  noise.  He 
reached  toward  Post  about  to  awaken  him,  thought 
better  of  it  and  scrambled  noiselessly  out  of  bed.  After 
all  it  was  hardly  probable  that  Hammond  had  visited 
them  without  giving  the  usual  notice;  it  would  n't  be 
playing  fair  and  Chub  would  be  frightfully  pained 
and  grieved!  Roy  smiled  to  himself  as  he  tried  to  find 
the  cords  which  lashed  the  tent  flap  close.  There  was 
no  use  in  waking  the  whole  crowd  up  unless  there  was 
some  reason  for  it.  He  would  just  look  around  a  bit 
first — if  he  could  ever  get  out  of  the  fool  tent!     Then 


218  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

the  last  cord  gave  way  and  he  slipped  out  into  the 
darkness. 

The  camp-fire  was  long  since  out  and  the  shower  had 
drowned  even  the  embers.  It  was  no  longer  raining,  but 
the  ground  was  wet  underfoot  and  the  grass  and  low 
growth  threw  drops  against  his  bare  ankles.  It  was  not 
quite  so  black  outside  here  as  it  had  been  in  the  tent, 
and  in  the  east  a  rift  in  the  clouds  hinted  of  the  moon,  but 
it  was  too  dark  to  see  much  of  anything.  Roy  felt  his 
way  across  the  clearing,  stumbled  over  a  peg  as  he  crept 
past  the  Ute  quarters  and  shook  a  shower  of  raindrops 
from  a  young  pine  as  he  went  sprawling  into  the  under- 
brush. It  was  very  damp  there  on  the  ground  and  pine 
needles  and  grass  and  twigs  were  plastered  to  his  body, 
but  he  lay  still  a  moment  and  listened.  Surely,  if  there 
was  anyone  round  they  could  n't  have  failed  to  hear  him 
crash  into  the  bushes !  All  was  still  for  an  instant ;  then 
there  was  a  subdued  splash  as  though  someone  had  un- 
intentionally plunged  his  foot  into  water.  Roy  cautiously 
lifted  his  head.  Now  came  a  whisper ;  another  answered 
from  a  distance;  an  oar  creaked  in  its  lock. 

Only  a  fringe  of  pines  and  underbrush  divided  Roy 
from  the  Inner  Beach  which  was  here  some  thirty  feet 
wide.  As  noiselessly  as  possible  he  stood  up  and  stared 
into  the  darkness  ahead.  It  seemed  that  he  could  dis- 
tinguish forms  moving  about,  but  he  decided  that  an 
excited  imagination  was  to  blame.  Cautiously  he  pressed 
through  the  bushes,  which  being  wet  gave  little  sound  as 
their  branches  whipped  back.    Then  he  was  on  the  edge 


A  NIGHT  ALARM  219 

of  the  pebbles.  And  as  he  raised  his  bare  foot  to  step 
forward  again  the  moon  broke  forth  from  the  broken 
clouds  and  he  stopped  short,  stifling  the  cry  that  sprang 
to  his  lips.  In  the  sudden  flood  of  dim  light  the  edge  of 
the  stream  seemed  fairly  alive  with  boats,  while  right  in 
front  of  him,  so  near  that  another  step  would  have 
reached  him,  a  dark  figure  was  kneeling  in  his  path. 


CHAPTER  XX 

EOY  VISITS  HAMMOND 

ROY'S  first  impulse  was  to  summon  assistance,  to 
rouse  the  camp ;  his  next,  to  avoid  detection.  For 
the  beach  was  empty  of  boats ;  every  one  of  the  five,  the 
four  steel  rowboats  and  Chub's  canoe,  had  been  lifted 
into  the  water  and  manned  by  the  marauders,  and  by 
the  time  the  fellows  reached  the  scene  they  would  be  far 
out  into  the  river.  All  this  Roy  sensed  in  far  shorter 
time  than  it  has  taken  to  tell  it.  Scarcely  a  moment  had 
passed  since  the  moonlight  had  revealed  the  stooping 
figure  in  front  of  him.  Roy  still  stood  poised  for  that 
forward  step.  The  form  at  his  feet  resolved  itself  into 
a  boy  with  a  woolen  sweater  and  a  cloth  cap.  He  had  laid 
a  piece  of  paper  on  the  beach  and  was  piling  pebbles 
upon  it.  Had  he  glanced  up  quickly  he  could  not  have 
failed  to  see  Roy,  even  though  the  latter  stood  in  partial 
shadow.  Roy  held  his  breath  and  waited.  In  the  boats 
the  dark  forms  of  the  invaders  were  motionless,  startled 
doubtless  by  the  sudden  advent  of  the  moonlight.  Then 
the  boy  at  Roy 's  feet  straightened  himself  up  with  a  little 

220 


ROY  VISITS  HAMMOND  221 

laugh,  and,  without  glancing  back,  crept  down  the  beach 
toward  the  boats.  And  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come  the 
moon  went,  and  once  more  the  darkness  enveloped  every- 
thing. Eoy  took  a  deep  breath  and,  with  pulses  leaping, 
crept  silently  after  the  other.  The  moon  had  played  into 
his  hands. 

He  kept  to  the  right,  heading  toward  the  last  of  the 
boats  as  he  remembered  its  location.  The  Hammond  boy 
had  gone  straight  down  the  beach  and  Roy  had  no  desire 
to  overtake  him.  In  a  moment  his  feet  were  in  the  water, 
splashing  softly.  Vague  forms  came  and  went  in  the 
darkness  and  his  hands  groped  toward  them.  It  is  prob- 
able, however,  that  he  would  have  waded  straight  into 
the  middle  of  the  stream  had  not  a  low  voice  hailed  him. 

' '  Here  you  are,  Jim,  get  in  here  ! ' ' 

Roy  turned  toward  the  voice,  stumbled  over  a  sunken 
stone  and  collided  with  the  side  of  a  rowboat. 

' '  Don 't  make  so  much  noise,  you  plunger ! ' '  said  the 
voice.    ' '  Give  me  your  hand. ' ' 

Roy  gave  it  and  was  promptly  hauled  over  the  side  of 
the  boat.    Someone  pulled  him  down  upon  a  seat. 

' '  All  right ! ' '  whispered  the  voice. 

' '  All  right,  fellows ! ' '  called  someone  in  the  next  boat 
softly.  And  there  came  the  sound  of  creaking  rowlocks. 

"Got  your  oar?"  whispered  the  fellow  who  shared 
Roy's  seat.  Roy  felt  around  and  found  it  and  began  to 
row. 

"Look  out,  you  fellows !"  called  a  voice  from  the  dark- 
ness beside  them,  and  they  ceased  rowing  while  another 
boat  crossed  ahead  of  them. 


THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE 

"More  to  the  right,"  commanded  a  boy  behind  Roy 
and  Roy  pulled  hard  on  his  oar.  Presently  a  little  breeze 
came  into  their  faces  and  Roy  guessed  that  they  were 
rounding  the  lower  end  of  the  island.  Very  silently  they 
went.  After  a  little  Roy  turned  his  head  and  saw  a  light 
here  and  there  on  the  farther  shore.  He  judged  that  they 
were  by  this  time  about  half  way  across.  The  fellows 
about  him  began  to  converse  in  whispers,  gradually  for- 
getting caution  as  they  left  the  island  farther  and  farther 
behind. 

"Won't  they  be  a  surprised  lot  of  chumps  in  the 
morning!"  asked  someone  with  a  laugh. 

"They  sure  will,"  answered  another  Hammondite. 
"They  Tl  be  'very  ill'  for  a  long  while." 

"I  never  thought  we  'd  do  it,"  said  the  boy  who  was 
working  an  oar  next  to  Roy.  ' '  I  don 't  see  yet  why  they 
did  n't  hear  us." 

"They  were  n't  expecting  us,"  said  another.  "I  tell 
you  that  was  a  foxy  idea  of  Jim 's,  to  find  out  where  they 
kept  the  boats  from  the  other  shore,  now  was  n't  it?" 

"Who  went  over,  Jim?"  asked  Roy's  companion. 
Roy's  heart  sank,  but  luckily  someone  behind  answered 
for  him. 

"He  went  over  himself,  he  and  Smith.  Rowed  over 
a  mile  up-river,  left  the  boat,  came  down  across  the  fields. 
They  watched  for  an  hour  and  saw  the  Ferry  Hill  fel- 
lows come  back  from  school  and  haul  the  boats  out.  Oh, 
it  was  an  all-right  scheme  !" 

Roy  looked  at  the  sky,  hoping  mightily  that  the  moon 
would  n't  come  out  until  they  had  reached  the  other 


ROY  VISITS  HAMMOND  223 

shore.  There  was  still  a  lighter  patch  up  there,  but  the 
moon  seemed  pretty  well  extinguished  for  the  time  being. 
[f  only  they  would  n't  insist  on  his  talking! 

' '  Do  we  have  to  give  the  boats  back  right  away,  Jim  ? ' ' 
asked  a  voice  from  the  bow.  Roy  hesitated,  hoping  that 
as  before  someone  would  answer  for  him.  But  no  one 
did.    So  he  plucked  up  his  courage. 

"Guess  so,"  he  replied,  rather  huskily. 

"Say,  you  've  got  a  peach  of  a  cold,  have  n't  you?" 
asked  his  neighbor.    "Did  you  get  wet?" 

"Sopping,"  growled  Eoy. 

"Too  bad.  You  come  up  to  my  room  when  we  get  back 
and  I  '11  give  you  a  dose  of  medicine.  I  've  got  some 
dandy  stuff !  Nasty 's  no  name  for  it,  but  it  '11  do  you 
good." 

"Thanks,"  muttered  Roy. 

Meanwhile  the  others  were  discussing  the  yielding  of 
the  prizes  of  war. 

"They  '11  probably  be  around  in  the  morning  for 
them, ' '  said  one  boy.  ' '  I  vote  we  all  go  down  to  the  land- 
ing and  receive  them." 

' '  Sure ;  we  always  do, ' '  said  another. 

"Much  you  know  about  it,"  said  a  third.  "You 
were  n't  here  two  years  ago,  and  we  did  n't  get  them 
last  year." 

"Well,  I  guess  I  've  heard  about  it,  have  n't  I?"  was 
the  indignant  response. 

"Easy  at  the  oars,  fellows,"  a  voice  in  the  bow  cau- 
tioned.    "We  're  almost  in." 

"Where  the  deuce  are  we?"  asked  another  voice. 


224  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE 

"Here  's  the  landing  over  here!"  The  information 
came  from  some  distance  down  stream  and  Roy  and  the 
other  rower  headed  that  way.  Then  their  bow  bumped 
into  one  of  the  other  boats,  and  presently,  after  several 
moments  of  confused  rowing  and  backing,  they  were 
alongside  the  float.    Roy  dropped  his  oar  and  sprang  out. 

"Say,  someone  strike  a  light!"  suggested  a  voice. 
' '  I  11  see  if  I  can  find  the  boat-house  lantern. ' ' 

An  exclamation  of  pain  and  a  crash  told  the  rest  that 
he  had  gone  in  search  of  it;  and  at  the  same  moment 
Roy's  companion  shoved  the  boat  they  were  in  up  on 
shore  and  rushed  toward  the  platform,  leaving  Roy  alone 
with  the  boat,  while  the  attention  of  the  others  was  cen- 
tered upon  the  effort  to  get  a  light. 

"I  've  got  a  match, " called  a  boy,  and  Roy  dove  wildly 
into  the  darkness  just  as  a  tiny  point  of  light  flared  up. 
Where  he  was  going  he  did  n  't  know ;  but  luckily  the 
branches  of  a  tree  whipped  his  face  and  he  groped  his 
way  into  a  damp  thicket  and  subsided  panting  upon  the 
ground.  He  had  gone  some  twenty  yards.  Back  on  the 
landing  they  were  lighting  the  big  square  lantern  that 
hung  on  the  front  of  the  boat-house  and  the  radiance 
from  it  allowed  Roy  to  watch  what  was  going  on.  As 
nearly  as  he  could  judge  there  had  been  fully  a  dozen 
boys  in  the  party  and  now  they  were  securing  their  own 
boats  and  the  Ferry  Hill  crafts  along  the  edge  of  the 
float. 

"I  think  we  ought  to  put  them  in  the  boat-house  or 
somewhere,"  he  heard  one  of  the  crowd  say.    "Suppos- 


ROY  VISITS  HAMMOND  225 

ing  they  find  out  that  we  Ve  swiped  them  and  come  over 
here  before  we  're  up." 

' '  Oh  get  out ! ' '  someone  answered.  ' '  They  won 't  know 
anything  about  it  until  half-past  six  or  seven.  We  '11  be 
down  here  by  that  time." 

"Where  does  this  lantern  belong?"  asked  a  voice. 

"Any  old  place.     Leave  it  here." 

"Let  's  take  it  along  to  find  the  path  with." 

"Yes,  and  have  Crowley  or  Murdock  see  it  and  get 
on  to  the  whole  thing!  I  guess  not!  Blow  it  out  and 
leave  it  by  the  boat-house  " 

Then  came  darkness  again  and  the  sound  of  feet  draw- 
ing near  Roy's  place  of  concealment.  On  they  came, 
trooping  up  the  path,  laughing  and  talking  softly.  Roy 
crawled  gingerly  back  into  the  bushes.  The  first  of  the 
crowd  passed  within  arm 's  reach,  or  so  it  sounded.  Then 
came  others,  stumbling  and  muttering.    Presently, 

' '  Is  that  you,  Jim ! ' '  asked  one  of  the  passers. 

"That  's  me,"  answered  a  clear  voice. 

"Coming  up  to  the  room  for  that  medicine?" 

"What  medicine?" 

"For  your  cold." 

"Say,  you  want  to  get  to  sleep,  my  boy.  I  have  n't 
got  any  cold." 

' '  You  said  you  had,  you  idiot !  It  does  n  't  sound  so 
now,  though." 

' '  I  said  I  had  a  cold  ?  When  did  I  say  so  ? "  demanded 
Jim. 

"Why,  in  the  boat,  coming  back.    I  said — " 


226  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATEE 

Then  they  passed  out  of  hearing  and  Roy  smiled  all 
to  himself  there  in  the  darkness.  Finally  the  last  of  the 
footfalls  ceased  sounding  on  the  path  and  Roy  stretched 
his  cramped  limbs  and  eased  his  position.  It  would  n't 
do  to  return  to  the  landing  yet,  though ;  he  must  allow 
them  at  least  an  hour  to  get  to  bed  and  asleep.  To  be 
sure,  the  dormitories  were  not,  he  believed,  in  view  of  the 
landing,  but  it  would  n't  do  to  take  chances.  So  he  made 
himself  as  comfortable  as  he  could  and  waited.  He  was 
shivering  now  and  his  teeth  chattered  every  time  he 
opened  his  mouth  to  yawn.  He  wondered  what  time  it 
might  be;  perhaps  one  o'clock,  perhaps  four.  At  any 
rate,  he  must  wait  an  hour  longer  and  he  must  n't  go  to 
sleep  while  he  waited. 

That  was  the  hardest  part  of  it,  to  keep  awake.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  he  had  never  been  sleepier  in  his  life. 
The  minutes  passed  while  he  strove  to  keep  his  eyes 
open.  Time  and  again  he  caught  himself  drowsing  and 
threw  off  the  temptation  just  in  time.  But  the  minutes 
went  by,  as  they  must  even  when  a  chap  is  sitting  in  a 
thicket  in  a  suit  of  damp  clothes,  and  minutes  make 
hours.  After  a  while  he  assured  himself  that  the  hour  had 
passed,  yet  resolutely  held  his  place  for  a  while  longer 
to  be  on  the  safe  side.  Finally,  shivering  and  cramped, 
he  crawled  out  and  picked  his  way  back  to  the  landing.  If 
only  he  had  matches !  he  thought  ruefully.  And  the  next 
moment  his  bare  foot  trod  on  something  and  stooping  he 
picked  up  what  he  wanted !    It  felt  like  a  good  one,  but 


ROY  VISITS  HAMMOND  227 

he  decided  to  find  the  lantern  before  he  tested  it.  He 
did  n't  have  to  search  long  for  the  lantern,  for  he  fell 
over  it  almost  the  next  step  he  took.  Finding  a  sheltered 
place,  he  opened  the  lantern  and  tried  the  match.  It 
lighted,  flickered  uncertainly  a  moment  and  then  burned 
steadily.  He  held  it  to  the  wick,  closed  the  door  and  rais- 
ing the  light  looked  about  him. 

There  were  seven  rowboats  and  Chub's  canoe  made 
fast  to  the  end  of  the  float.  It  was  a  little  difficult  to  tell 
which  were  Ferry  Hill  and  which  Hammond  craft,  but 
Roy  did  n't  let  that  trouble  him.  For  the  next  ten 
minutes  he  was  so  busy  that  he  forgot  his  coldness.  Once 
the  moon  came  out  for  a  moment  or  two,  but  for  the  most 
part  it  was  so  dark  that  the  lantern's  rays  seemed  very 
feeble.  Finally,  however,  the  last  knot  was  tied  and  Roy, 
blowing  out  the  lantern,  slid  into  one  of  the  Ferry  Hill 
boats  and  slipped  oars  into  oarlocks.  Then,  slowly,  he 
headed  away  in  the  darkness,  and  one  by  one  went  each 
of  the  seven  other  boats,  the  canoe  dipping  along  in  the 
rear-  For,  thought  Roy  with  a  chuckle,  "what  's  sauce 
for  the  goose  is  sauce  for  the  gander." 

I  'm  not  going  to  dwell  on  the  next  hour.  Fortunately 
there  was  no  wind,  and  the  slight  tide  was  in  his  favor. 
There  were  one  or  two  lights  on  the  opposite  shore,  but 
as  Roy  did  n't  know  where  they  were  they  did  n't  help 
much,  and  it  was  more  by  good-luck  than  good  manage- 
ment that  he  reached  it  at  all. 

When  the  boat  did  grate  on  the  shore  he  leaped  out 


228  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

with  painter  in  hand  and  made  fast  to  a  rock.  Then  he 
returned  to  the  boat  and  waited  as  patiently  as  he  could 
for  dawn.  But  he  did  n't  have  to  do  that,  as  it  proved. 
He  had  been  nodding  there  only  half  an  hour  perhaps 
when  the  moon,  which  all  the  night  had  been  trying 
its  best  to  elude  the  clouds,  positively  leaped  into  view 
with  an  effect  so  startling  that  Roy  almost  fell  out  of  the 
boat.  The  moon  was  floating  across  a  little  pond  of  pur- 
ple-gray sky,  the  banks  of  which  were  piles  of  fluffy  white 
clouds  like  snow.  But  he  did  n't  waste  much  time  in 
admiring  the  scene.  Swiftly  he  looked  about  him.  He 
would  have  yelled  with  joy  if  he  had  n't  been  so  tired  and 
ileepy,  for  there,  not  a  dozen  yards  away  along  the  bank 
was  the  boat-house. 

At  first  he  decided  to  pull  the  boats  out  where  they 
were  and  return  to  the  island  without  them.  Then  he 
determined  to  see  the  thing  through  if  it  took  all  the  rest 
of  the  night.  So  he  pushed  off  and  headed  up-stream. 
By  keeping  well  in  toward  shore  he  was  soon  in  the  lee 
of  the  island  where  no  breeze  could  reach  him.  After 
that,  it  was  simple  work.  The  moon  stayed  out  long 
enough  to  guide  him  to  shore  and  then  retired  again. 
A  few  minutes'  work  on  the  beach  sufficed  to  bring  all  the 
boats  out  of  the  water.  He  worked  quietly,  for  he  had  no 
wish  to  explain  the  night's  happenings  then;  he  wanted 
only  to  tumble  into  bed  and  go  to  sleep.  Softly  he  felt 
his  way  through  the  brush — it  was  too  dark  to  find  the 
path — crossed  the  clearing  and  at  length  found  his  tent 


ROY  VISITS  HAMMOND  229 

and  crept  quietly  into  bed.  The  next  thing  he  knew  the 
canvas  overhead  was  a  moving  pattern  of  sunlight  and 
shadow  and  Chub  was  pulling  him  out  of  bed  by  one 
foot. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

PERRY  HILL  CHANGES  ITS  LEADER 

THE  presence  of  the  strange  boats  on  the  Inner  Beach 
was  not  discovered  until  just  before  breakfast.  Roy 
had  said  nothing  to  anyone  of  the  night's  adventures. 
Otto  Ferris  was  noisily  hammering  a  spoon  on  a  new 
dish-pan  when  Kirby  burst  excitedly  on  to  the  scene. 

' '  Mr.  Buckman,  there  are  three  new  boats  on  the  beach, 
sir!" 

" New  boats?" 

"Yes,  sir,  rowboats." 

"Where  did  they  come  from?  Whose  are  they?" 
asked  the  instructor,  bewilderedly. 

"I  don't  know,  sir.     They  're  not  ours." 

"Someone  must  have  come  in  the  night/'  said  Horace. 
"Maybe  campers." 

"Well,  after  breakfast  we  '11  have  a  look  around," 
said  Mr.  Buckman. 

As  soon  as  grace  had  been  said  Roy  spoke  up. 

"Those  boats  belong  to  Hammond,  Mr.  Buckman,''* 
he  said. 

"To  Hammond?  How  do  you  know,  Porter?  What 
are  they  doing  here?" 

230 


FERRY  HILL  CHANGES  ITS  LEADER  231 

"I  brought  them,  sir." 

A  howl  of  laughter  arose.  Mr.  Buckman  smiled  geni- 
ally. 

"I  suppose  there  's  a  joke  somewhere,"  he  said.  "Get 
rid  of  it,  Porter." 

"Well,  yes,  there  is  a  joke,  sir,"  answered  Roy  quietly. 
"And  I  guess  it  's  on  Hammond." 

Something  in  his  tone  silenced  the  laughter  and  from 
one  end  of  the  trestle  table  to  the  other  the  fellows  forgot 
the  sizzling  ham  and  eggs  before  them  and  looked  eagerly 
at  Roy. 

"You  've  been  up  to  something!"  cried  Chub. 

"I  Ve  been  up  half  the  night,"  answered  Roy. 

Excited  yells  and  exclamations  followed  this  announce- 
ment. Fellows  jumped  from  their  places  and  crowded 
about  him. 

"Out  with  it!"  they  cried.  "What  's  up?  Where 
did  you  find  the  boats?    When  was  it?" 

And  so  Roy  began  at  the  beginning,  hugely  enjoying 
the  amazement  the  story  created.  Time  and  again  he  was 
interrupted  by  excited  questions ;  thrice  Chub  literally 
fell  on  his  neck  and  hugged  him  until  torn  away  by  eager 
members  of  the  audience.  And  when  the  story  was  fin- 
ished they  dragged  Roy  from  the  bench  and  sat  upon 
him  and  pummelled  him  joyfully.  He  was  more  than 
satisfied  with  the  sensation  he  had  created;  he  was  even 
glad  for  the  sake  of  his  aching  ribs  that  it  had  n't  been 
any  greater.  And  then  he  was  dragged  off  to  the  beach 
and  made  to  go  through  the  narrative  all  over  again,, 


232  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

pointing  out  where  he  stood  and  where  "Jim"  stood,  Mr. 
Buckman  following  as  interestedly  as  any.  And  in  the 
middle  of  it  they  found  the  note  under  the  stones. 

"  Found ! "  (it  ran)  "  Five  boats.  Owner  may  have  same 
by  applying  to  Hammond  Academy  and  describing  prop- 
erty." 

"Cheeky   dubs!"   growled   Post. 

Chub,  who  during  the  last  few  minutes  had  been  look- 
ing grave  and  sorrowful,  broke  in  aggrievedly. 

"It  was  mighty  mean  of  you  to  keep  the  whole  thing 
to  yourself,  though,"  he  said.  "You  might  have  let  me 
in  on  it." 

Eoy  had  to  explain  the  impossibility  of  doing  so,  but 
Chub  was  disconsolate  until,  an  hour  or  so  later,  a  boat 
was  seen  leaving  the  Hammond  landing.  Then  the  entire 
camp  went  to  the  end  of  the  island  and  watched  in  silent 
enjoyment  the  approach  of  the  Hammond  boat.  It  held 
four  fellows,  and  it  did  n  't  head  straight  for  the  island ; 
evidently  they  were  n't  quite  certain  what  had  become 
of  their  boats.  They  passed  the  end  of  the  island,  each 
fellow  apparently  trying  to  look  unconcerned,  waved  to 
the  group  on  the  point  and  kept  on  toward  the  other 
shore.  But  when  the  Inner  Beach  was  in  sight  and  the 
boats  revealed  to  view  they  stopped  rowing,  talked  a 
minute  among  themselves  and  then  turned  and  rowed 
slowly  toward  the  beach.  The  campers  walked  digni. 
fiedly  around  to  meet  them. 

It  was  a  sheepish-looking  quartette  that  beached  their 
boat  and  advanced  toward  the  group.     The  leader  was 


FERRY  HILL  CHANGES  ITS  LEADER      233 

Sehonberg.  Beside  him  was  a  tall,  good-looking  fellow 
whom  Roy  rightfully  guessed  to  be  "Jim."  Sehonberg 
spoke  first. 

"Hello,  you  fellows,"  he  said  sadly.  "You  're  mighty 
smart,  are  n't  you?" 

"So-so,"  answered  Horace  amiably. 

"I  s'pose  we  can  have  our  boats?"  asked  Sehonberg. 

"Help  yourself,"  answered  Horace  with  a  grin. 

Sehonberg  saw  the  grin,  strove  to  look  unconscious 
and  finally  grinned  back.  That  broke  the  ice.  Ferry 
Hill  howled  its  enjoyment  and  the  three  ambassadors 
joined  in,  though  with  less  spontaneity. 

"Come  on  up,  you  fellows,"  said  Chub.  "Let  's 
chin." 

So  they  came  up  and  sat  down  at  the  edge  of  the 
bushes. 

"It  's  one  on  us,"  said  Sehonberg,  "is  n't  it,  Jim?" 

Jim  laughed,  plucked  a  blade  of  grass,  stuck  it  in  the 
corner  of  his  mouth  and  said  he  guessed  it  was. 

"What  I  'd  like  to  know,  though,"  he  added  puz- 
zledly,  "is  how  the  dickens  you  did  it." 

"Ask  this  fellow,"  suggested  Chub,  nodding  toward 
Roy. 

The  ambassadors  looked  inquiringly  at  Roy.  Roy  ex- 
plained. The  ambassadors  opened  their  eyes,  looked 
blankly  incredulous  and  finally  convinced. 

' '  Well,  I  '11  be  blowed  ! ' '  muttered  Jim.  ' '  That  's  what 
Joyce  meant  when  he  asked  about  my  cold ! ' ' 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  exclaimed  Sehonberg. 


234  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

The  other  two  shook  their  heads,  plainly  at  a  loss  for 
words  to  adequately  express  just  what  they  did  think. 
Then  there  were  a  lot  of  questions,  which  Roy  answered 
cheerfully,  and  finally  Schonberg  got  up. 

' '  Well,  you  did  us  to  a  turn, ' '  he  said  frankly.  ' '  As  for 
you,  Porter,  you — "  he  hesitated;  then—  "you  ought  to 
come  to  Hammond ! "  he  finished,  evidently  bestowing 
the  highest  praise  he  could  think  of. 

"Thanks,"  answered  Roy  with  a  laugh,  "but  I  was 
there  last  night  and  found  it  mighty  cold." 

"If  we  'd  known  it  was  you,"  said  Jim,  "we  might 
have  made  it  warmer  for  you." 

"That  's  just  what  I  thought,  and  so  I  took  particular 
pains  not  to  tell  anyone." 

Ferry  Hill  assisted  Hammond  to  launch  her  three 
boats.  Hammond  expressed  her  thanks.  Each  bade  the 
other  good-bye.  Hammond  rowed  away.  Then  the 
formal  politeness  of  the  parting  was  suddenly  marred 
by  one  of  the  ambassadors  who  had  thus  far  scarcely 
spoken.  He  was  a  thin,  scrawny  youth  and  wore  glasses. 
When  the  boats  were  a  little  way  off  shore  and  headed 
toward  home  he  looked  defiantly  across  at  the  group  on 
the  beach  and  shook  his  fist. 

' '  Just  you  wait  until  next  year,  you  fresh  kids ! "  he 
shouted.  Schonberg  told  him  to  dry  up  and  Jim  splashed 
him  with  water,  but  he  of  the  spectacles  would  not  be 
stilled.  "We  '11  show  you  next  time,"  he  added  venom- 
ously. Ferry  Hill  laughed;  all  save  Post.  Post  blew  a 
kiss. 


FERRY  HILL  CHANGES  ITS  LEADER      235 

"All  right,  dearest!"  lie  called  back. 

"Dearest"  replied  at  some  length,  but  his  utterance? 
were  marred  by  Jim  who  promptly  pulled  him  backward 
into  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  So  Hammond,  acknowledg- 
ing defeat,  took  her  departure,  trailing  her  recovered 
war-craft  dejectedly  behind. 

Ferry  Hill  was  in  raptures  all  day  long;  and  a  week 
later  when  school  had  begun  once  more  and  the  camp 
was  only  a  memory,  Roy  found  himself  a  hero  indeed. 
The  returning  students  listened  to  the  tale  with  wildest 
delight  and  Horace  Burlen's  supremacy  was  a  thing  of 
the  past.  Only  the  veriest  handful  of  loyal  subjects 
remained  about  his  fallen  throne.  Ferry  Hill  acknow- 
ledged a  new  leader,  and  his  name  was  Roy  Porter. 

Horace  accepted  his  overthrow  with  apparent  good 
grace,  but  that  he  was  far  from  reconciled  subsequent 
events  proved.  Roy  took  his  honors  coolly  and  modestly. 
A  youth  less  well-balanced  might  have  been  badly  spoiled. 
The  younger  boys  followed  Roy  about  and  hung  breath- 
less on  his  lightest  word.  Quarrels  and  arguments  were 
laid  before  him  for  adjustment  and  there  were  always 
one  or  more  worshiping  subjects  at  hand  eager  to  run  his 
errands.  But  Roy  did  his  own  errands  and  refused  to  be 
spoiled  by  the  adulation  of  his  friends.  Horace's  over- 
throw, however,  pleased  him  well.  He  had  never  for- 
gotten or  forgiven  that  youth's  insult  to  his  crimson 
sweater,  and  revenge  was  sweet. 

Meanwhile  April  passed  into  May  and  May  ran  swiftly 
toward  June.    Hammond  came  over  and  played  the  first 


236  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

of  a  series  of  three  games  on  the  diamond  and  won  deci- 
sively hy  twelve  runs  to  five.  Neither  Post  nor  Kirby 
proved  effective  in  the  pitcher's  box  and  the  playing  of 
the  other  members  of  the  team  was  listless  and  slow. 
Ferry  Hill  made  as  many  errors  as  runs  and  secured 
only  four  hits  off  of  Rollins,  the  opposing  pitcher ;  who, 
by  the  way,  proved  to  be  the  "Jim"  of  Roy's  midnight 
adventure.  Chub  was  in  despair.  Mr.  Cobb  rated  the 
players  soundly  after  the  game  and  threatened  all  sorts 
of  dire  punishments  if  they  did  n't  do  better.  Roy  had 
one  error  to  his  credit,  but  aside  from  that  had  played 
a  fairly  good  game.  The  second  Hammond  game  was 
two  weeks  away  and  in  the  meanwhile  every  effort  was 
made  to  better  the  team.  Practice  became  stiffer,  and 
stiffer  substitutes  were  tried  in  almost  every  position. 
Up  to  the  last  week  of  May  there  had  been  little  to  choose 
between  Post  and  Kirby,  but  in  the  game  with  Highland 
Academy  on  the  twenty-eighth  of  the  month,  Post 
showed  such  excellent  form  that  it  was  decided  to  save 
him  for  the  next  Hammond  contest. 

Affairs  on  the  river  were  meanwhile  promising  far 
better.  The  first  Four  was  rowing  finely,  Whitcomb  at 
stroke,  Hadden  at  2,  Burlen  at  3  and  Gallup  at  bow 
Otto  Ferris  had  failed  to  get  out  of  the  second  boat, 
where,  with  Fernald,  Walker  and  Pearse  he  was  daily 
making  the  first  row  its  hardest  to  win  out  in  the  Prac- 
tice races. 

On  the  track  things  were  in  poor  shape.  Hammond 
would  not  compete  with  Ferry  Hill  in  track  and  field 


FERRY  HILL  CHANGES  ITS  LEADER  237 

games  and  so  there  was  but  little  incentive  for  the  latter 
school.  Still,  a  handful  of  boys  went  in  for  running, 
hurdling,  pole-vaulting,  jumping  and  shot-putting  in 
preparation  for  the  preparatory  school  meet. 

Those  boys  who  neither  rowed,  played  baseball  nor 
performed  on  the  track — and  there  were  n't  many  such 
— essayed  golf  or  went  fishing  on  the  river  or  along  one 
or  the  other  of  the  two  nearby  streams.  The  streams 
were  the  more  popular,  though,  for  they  afforded  excel- 
lent sport  with  rod  and  fly,  Wissick  Creek  especially 
yielding  fine  trout,  principally  for  the  reason  that  it  ran 
for  several  miles  through  private  estates  and  had  been 
carefully  preserved  for  many  years.  The  best  pools 
were  posted  and  once  in  a  great  while  a  case  of  poach- 
ing came  up  before  the  Principal,  but  as  poaching  was 
held  to  be  a  dire  offence,  punishable  with  expulsion,  the 
fellows  as  a  general  thing  contented  themselves  with  such 
portions  of  the  stream  as  were  open  to  the  public.  Of 
course,  fishing  on  Sunday  was  strictly  prohibited,  bux 
sometimes  a  boy  would  wander  away  from  school  for  a 
Sunday  afternoon  walk  with  a  fly-book  in  his  pocket 
and  an  unjoin  ted  rod  reposing  under  his  clothes  and 
making  him  quite  stiff-kneed  in  one  leg.  Such  things 
will  happen  in  the  best  regulated  schools  just  as  long  as 
trout  will  rise  to  a  fly  and  boys'  nature  remains  un- 
changed. 

Roy  and  Chub  and  Bacon  and  the  others  making  up 
the  first  nine  had  no  time,  however,  in  those  days,  for 
fishing,  either  legal  or  illegal.     TLey  were  busy,  very 


238  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

busy.  And  the  nearer  the  second  Hammond  game  ap- 
proached, the  busier  they  were.  Mr.  Cobb  worked  them 
right  up  to  the  eve  of  that  important  contest.  If  they 
lost  it  would  not  be  for  lack  of  hard  practice. 

All  Ferry  Hill  crossed  the  river  in  a  blazing  June  sun, 
brown  and  white  banners  flying,  to  watch  and  cheer. 
Even  the  crew  men  postponed  rowing  until  after  the 
game.  It  was  a  hard-fought  battle  from  first  to  last,  in 
which  the  honors  went  to  the  pitchers.  Hammond 
started  with  her  second  choice  twirler,  he  giving  place 
in  the  seventh  inning  to  Jim  Rollins.  Ferry  Hill  used 
Post  all  through  and  he  did  n't  fail  her.  Neither  side 
scored  until  the  fifth,  and  then  Ferry  Hill  got  a  man 
to  second  on  an  error,  and  scored  him  by  making  the 
first  hit  of  the  game,  a  two-bagger  that  placed  Chub  on 
second,  where  he  stayed,  while  Roy  flied  out  to  center-field 
and  brought  the  inning  to  a  close.  In  the  sixth  an  error 
by  Bacon,  at  short,  started  things  going  for  Hammond. 
Her  first  man  up  stole  second.  Her  next  batsman  sac- 
rificed and  sent  him  to  third  from  where  he  scored  on  a 
long  fly  to  the  outfield  which  Patten  could  n't  handle 
fast  enough.  Then  nothing  more  happened  until  the 
eighth,  when  Bacon  was  hit  by  Rollins,  stole  second, 
went  to  third  on  a  sacrifice  and  scored  on  a  passed  ball. 
Hammond  failed  to  solve  Post's  curves  in  their  half  of 
that  inning,  Ferry  Hill  had  no  better  luck  in  the  first 
of  the  ninth  and  Hammond,  in  the  last  half  of  the 
ninth,  placed  a  man  on  first  and  then  went  out 
in  one,  two,  three  order. 


FERRY  HILL  CHANGES  ITS  LEADER      239 

Ferry  Hill  had  won,  but  she  had  won  on  errors  largely, 
and  the  outlook  for  the  deciding  game,  when  Rollins 
would  pitch  all  through,  was  far  from  bright.  But  at 
least  Ferry  Hill  had  rendered  that  third  game  neces- 
sary, and  that  was  something  to  be  thankful  for.  And 
the  fact  that  she  had  played  with  vim  and  snap  and  had 
made  but  two  errors  was  encouraging.  Ferry  Hill  went 
home  with  banners  still  flying  and  her  cheers  echoing 
back  from  shore  to  shore.  And  Roy,  because  he  had  ac- 
cepted every  chance  and  had  played  a  faultless  game 
at  first-base,  found  himself  more  of  a  hero  than  ever. 

More  practice  followed,  interspersed  with  minor  con- 
tests with  neighboring  schools.  Ferry  Hill  seemed  to 
have  found  her  pace,  for  she  disposed  of  three  visiting 
nines  in  short  order,  and  on  the  Saturday  following  the 
Hammond  victory  traveled  down-river  and  won  from 
Prentice  Military  Academy  by  the  overwhelming  score 
of  16  to  2.  Chub's  spirits  had  risen  since  the  last  Ham- 
mond game  and  it  was  his  old  self  that  tumbled  upstairs 
from  the  Junior  Dormitory  the  next  morning  before 
rising  bell  and  snuggled  into  Roy's  cot. 

"Get  over,  you  log,"  he  whispered,  "and  give  me 
some  room." 

' '  Room !  You  've  got  the  whole  bed  now !  If  Cobb 
sees  you — " 

' '  Let  him ;  who  cares  ?  Say,  Roy,  let  's  go  fishing  to- 
day.   I  feel  just  like  it." 

"And  get  found  out  and  put  on  inner  bounds?  No; 
thanks!" 


240  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"AA7e  won't  get  found  out,  Roy,  my  boy.  We  '11  just 
go  for  a  walk  this  afternoon  and  take  a  couple  of  rods 
with  us. 

"I  '11  borrow  one  for  you.  I  Ve  got  flies  to  burn. 
We  '11  go  to  a  place  I  know,  a  dandy  hole  ;  regular  whales 
there  !    What  do  you  say  ? ' ' 

"I  say  you  're  a  silly  chump  to  risk  it." 

' '  Tommy  rot !     Come  along ! ' ' 

"I  '11  go  along,  but  I  won't  fish." 

"What  a  good  little  boy!" 

"That  's  all  right,  Chub,  but  I  don't  want  to  go  on 
bounds  just  when  the  Hammond  game  is  coming  along. 
It  's  only  a  week,  you  know.  You  take  my  advice  and  be 
good." 

"I  can't  be  good — to-day.  I  feel  too  kittenish," 
added  Chub  with  a  gurgle  of  laughter.  "There  goes  the 
bell.    Will  you  come?" 

"Yes,  but  won't  fish." 

' '  Oh,  pshaw !  Yes,  you  will.  I  '11  borrow  a  rod  for 
you  anyhow." 

And  Chub  slipped  out  of  bed  and  scampered  down- 
stairs again. 

At  three  o'clock  two  boys  sauntered  idly  away  from 
school  in  the  direction  of  the  river.  One  of  them  held 
himself  rather  stiffly  and  his  side  pocket  bulged  more 
than  usual.  But  there  was  no  one  to  notice  these  trivial 
things.  Once  on  the  river  bank  they  doubled  back  and 
struck  inland  toward  the  Silver  Cove  road,  Chub  leading 
the  way. 


FERRY  HILL  CHANGES  ITS  LEADER       241 

"Gee!"  he  said,  "I  '11  be  glad  when  I  can  take  these 
poles  out !    They  're  mighty  uncomfortable. ' ' 

' '  Did  you  bring  two  ? ' '  asked  Roy. 

' '  Sure  !  When  you  see  the  way  those  trout  bite  you  '11 
want  to  take  a  hand  yourself.  I  borrowed  Tom's.  Otto 
Ferris  had  to  come  nosing  around  and  saw  it,  but  he 
won 't  tell.    If  he  does  I  '11  make  him  wish  he  had  n  't ! " 

"He  might  tell  Horace,"  said  Roy  uneasily.  "If 
Horace  thought  he  could  get  me  into  trouble  he  'd  do  it 
mighty  quick." 

"Oh,  he  's  a  back-number,"  answered  Chub  gaily. 
' '  This  way,  over  the  fence  and  across  the  pasture ;  it  's 
only  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  here. ' ' 

Soon  they  were  treading  their  way  along  the  bank  of 
a  fairly  wide  brook,  pushing  through  the  alders  and 
young  willows.  After  a  while  Chub  stopped  and  jointed 
his  pole. 

"You  're  going  to  fish,  are  n't  you?"  he  asked. 

Roy  shook  his  head. 

"No,  especially  since  there  's  a  chance  that  Ferris 
will  tell  Horace.  I  don't  want  to  get  hung  up  for  the 
Hammond  game.  You  go  ahead,  if  you  've  got  to,  and 
I  '11  watch." 

"All  right,  if  you  won't.    What  's  that?" 

He  started  and  turned,  peering  intently  through  the 
bushes. 

"Thought  I  heard  someone,"  he  muttered. 

"Hope  it  was  n't  Cobb  or  Buckman,"  said  Roy  fer- 
vently. 


242  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"Oh,  they  don't  spy,"  answered  Chub,  selecting  a 
grey  fly  from  a  pocket  of  the  book  that  had  swelled  his 
pocket.  "Well,  here  goes  for  that  nice  black  place  over 
there  where  the  little  eddy  is." 

The  line  flashed  in  the  air  and  fell  softly  into  the 
shadowed  water.  After  that  Chub  seemed  to  forget 
Roy's  presence  entirely.  Roy  leaned  back  with  hands 
clasped  behind  his  head  and  watched ;  that  is,  he  watched 
for  a  while ;  then  his  eyelids  closed  and  with  the  babble 
of  the  stream  and  the  drowsy  hum  of  insects  for  a  lul- 
laby he  went  to  sleep. 

When  he  awoke  the  shadows  had  lengthened  percept- 
ibly and  Chub  was  not  in  sight.  From  the  cramped  con- 
dition of  his  neck  and  arm  he  judged  that  he  had  slept 
hard  and  long.  He  got  to  his  feet  and  called  softly. 
There  was  no  answer.  Evidently  Chub  had  wandered 
further  along  stream.  Roy  waited  a  while,  then,  as  it 
was  fast  approaching  supper-time,  he  started  home.  As 
he  reached  the  fence  back  of  the  athletic  field  Chub 
jumped  into  the  road  a  few  rods  above  and  hurried 
toward  him. 

' '  You  're  a  great  one, ' '  called  Roy.  ' '  I  waited  almost 
half  an  hour  for  you  to  come  back  there." 

"I  'm  awfully  sorry,"  said  Chub.  "You  see  I 
could  n't  get  even  a  nibble  there  and  so  I  thought  I  'd 
go  on  up-stream.  You  were  having  a  lovely  sleep  and  I 
hated  to  wake  you.  I  tried  two  or  three  pools  and  found 
nothing  doing.     Did  n't  get  even  a  bite  all  afternoon. 


FERKY  HILL  CHANGES  ITS  LEADER  243 

And  when  I  got  back  you  were  gone.  "What  did  you  do 
with  Tom's  pole?" 

' '  Tom 's  pole  ? ' '  echoed  Roy  blankly. 

"Yes,  did  you  leave  it  there?    I  could  n't  see  it." 

' '  Why,  it  was  n  't  there !  At  least,  I  don 't  think  it 
was.    Are  you  sure  you  did  n't  take  it  with  you?" 

' '  Sure ;  I  only  had  my  own.  That  's  funny.  It  's  too 
late  to  go  back  now.  I  '11  go  up  in  the  morning  and  see 
if  I  can  find  it.  If  I  can't  I  '11  have  to  buy  him  another 
one." 

"I  '11  do  the  buying,"  answered  Roy.  "You  borrowed 
the  old  thing  for  me." 

"Nonsense;  it  's  my  funeral.  You  said  you  did  n't 
want  it,  and  I  insisted  on  getting  it  for  you.  Well, 
maybe  I  '11  find  it.    Come  on,  we  '11  have  to  hurry  a  bit. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XXII 


THE  POACHING 


WHEN  Otto  Ferris  had  happened  into  the  Senior  Dor- 
mitory in  time  to  see  Tom  Forrest  hand  his  fishing- 
rod  to  Chub  he  had  thought  nothing  of  it.  And 
when,  having  found  the  book  he  was  after,  he  re- 
turned to  the  Campus  and  ran  into  Horace  he  men- 
tioned the  incident  as  a  mere  bit  of  unimportant 
news;  on  a  drowsy  Sunday  afternoon  nothing  is  too 
slight  to  serve  as  conversation.  Horace  settled  himself 
with  his  back  to  a  big  elm  tree  and  thought  it  over. 

If  Doctor  Emery  should  learn  of  the  fact  that  Chub 
and  Roy  had  gone  fishing  he  would  promptly  punish 
them.  But  the  punishment  would  be  something  not 
worth  considering.  But  if,  by  chance,  the  two  boys  were 
detected  fishing  on  private  property,  say  on  old  Farmer 
Mercer's  territory,  they  would  suffer  badly;  they  might 
even  be  expelled.  Horace  did  n't  want  anything  as  bad 
as  that  to  happen  to  Chub,  for  he  only  half  disliked 
that  youth,  but  he  could  n  't  think  of  anything  that  would 
please  him  more  than  to  see  Roy  Porter  leave  school  in 

244 


THE  POACHING  245 

disgrace.  In  that  case  he  could,  he  believed,  very  quickly 
regain  his  former  leadership. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  had  thought  out  a  scheme  which 
might  work,  and  which,  if  it  did  work,  would  probably 
bring  about  the  results  desired.  It  was  risky,  but  Hor- 
ace was  n't  a  coward,  whatever  his  other  faults  were. 
He  looked  about.  Otto  was  deep  in  his  book  under  the 
next  tree.  Horace  smiled  to  himself  and  called  across  to 
him.  Otto  listened  to  the  scheme  with  avidity  and 
promptly  pledged  assistance. 

"What  you  've  got  to  do,"  directed  Horace,  "is  to 
get  the  sweater.  He  keeps  it  in  the  top  tray  of  his  trunk ; 
I  saw  it  there  a  couple  of  days  ago  when  he  opened  it." 

"But  supposing  it  's  locked?" 

"I  don't  believe  it  's  locked,"  answered  Horace. 
"Anyhow,  you  go  up  and  see.    I  '11  wait  here." 

"Well,  but— but  why  don't  you  do  it?"  blurted  Otto. 

"Now  don't  you  begin  to  ask  questions,"  replied 
Horace  severely.  "You  do  as  you  're  told.  If  you  don't 
you  may  have  trouble  keeping  your  place  in  the  second 
boat." 

"That  's  all  right,"  whined  Otto,  "but  you  more  than 
half  promised  to  get  me  into  the  first,  and  you  have  n't 
done  it." 

' '  I  said  I  would  if  I  could, ' '  answered  the  other  coolly. 
"If  you  could  row  as  well  as  Whitcomb  I  'd  give  you 
his  place,  but  I  'm  not  going  to  risk  losing  the  race 
just  to  please  you.     Run  along  now." 

Otto  went,  but  was  soon  back  again. 


246  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"I  can't  do  it,"  he  said.  "Tom  Forrest  's  up  there 
asleep  on  his  bed." 

"Lazy  chump,"  muttered  Horace  crossly.  "Wait; 
I  '11  come  along." 

There  was  no  doubt  of  the  fact  that  Tom  was  sleeping. 
His  snoring  reached  them  outside  the  door.  Horace  and 
Otto  tiptoed  in  and  the  former  considered  the  situation. 
Then,  motioning  Otto  toward  Roy's  trunk  which  stood 
beside  the  head  of  his  cot,  he  placed  himself  so  as  to 
watch  Forrest  and  cut  off  that  youth 's  view  of  the  trunk. 
Otto  crept  to  the  trunk.  It  was  unlocked  and  the  crim- 
son sweater  lay  in  the  top  of  the  till.  Down  came  the 
lid  again  noiselessly  and  Otto  retreated  to  the  door,  the 
sweater  stuffed  under  his  coat.    Horace  crept  after  him. 

"All  right  so  far,"  murmured  Horace  as  they  went 
softly  downstairs.  "Now  we  '11  take  a  walk.  Can't 
you  stuff  that  thing  away  better  than  that?  You  look 
like  an  alderman.    Here,  I  '11  show  you." 

He  folded  it  flatly  and  laid  it  against  Otto's  chest, 
buttoning  his  coat  over  it. 

' '  That  's  better.  Now  we  '11  cross  the  field  and  take  a 
nice  quiet  walk.  And  if  anyone  ever  asks  you  where  we 
went  you  remember  to  say  that  we  walked  down  the  Sil- 
ver Cove  road  as  far  as  the  branch  and  came  back  again. 
We  went  very  slow,  remember,  and  were  gone  about  an 
hour." 

But  once  on  the  road,  instead  of  following  it  toward 
the  village  they  crossed  it  and  made  up  through  the 
woods.     When  they  reached  the  creek  they  turned  up 


THE  POACHING  247 

it  and  went  stealthily,  keeping  a  sharp  lookout  .for 
Chub  and  Roy.  As  it  was,  in  spite  of  their  caution,  they 
very  nearly  walked  on  to  them  at  the  deep  pool,  and  had 
they  not  fallen  instantly  to  the  ground  would  have  been 
detected.  Afraid  to  move  away  lest  the  rustling  of  the 
branches  prompt  the  others  to  investigate,  they  had 
to  lay  there  for  fully  a  quarter  of  an  hour  while  Chub 
whipped  the  pool  and  Roy  went  off  to  sleep.  Then  they 
saw  Chub  wind  in  his  line,  glance  at  Roy  and  move 
toward  them.  Luckily  for  them,  however,  Chub  took  it 
into  his  head  to  try  the  opposite  side  and  so  crossed  over 
on  the  stones  and  passed  them  by.  They  waited  until  he 
had  slowly  taken  himself  down-stream.  Then  Horace 
sat  up  and  saw  the  idle  pole  lying  on  the  ground  almost 
at  Roy's  feet.  It  was  Otto  who  finally,  after  much  per- 
suasion and  threatening,  crept  over  and  secured  it  with- 
out arousing  the  sleeper.  Then,  making  a  little  detour, 
they  went  on  up  the  creek. 

Five  minutes  brought  them  to  the  edge  of  Farmer 
Mercer's  property  and  in  view  of  a  placard  threatening 
dire  punishment  to  trespassers.  Horace  now  donned  the 
crimson  sweater,  threw  his  coat  to  Otto  and  jointed  up 
the  pole. 

' '  Wish  I  had  a  line  and  fly, ' '  he  muttered.  « '  They  '11 
think  he  was  a  cra^y  sort  of  fisherman,  I  guess." 

Leaving  Otto  at  the  wall,  he  clambered  over  and  stole 
on.  A  couple  of  hundred  yards  further  on  there  was  a 
place  where  the  meadow  came  down  to  the  stream  and 
where  there  were  neither  bushes  nor  trees  to  screen  it. 


248  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATEE 

It  was  in  full  view  of  Farmer  Mercer's  big  white  house 
which  lay  perhaps  an  eighth  of  a  mile  away  across  the 
meadow.  Here  Horace,  a  readily-distinguished  crimson 
spot  against  the  green  of  the  farther  trees,  halted  and 
went  through  the  motions  of  casting  his  line.  But  all 
the  time,  you  may  be  sure,  he  kept  one  eye  on  the  white 
house.  He  had  landed  just  one  mythical  trout  and  was 
preparing  to  cast  again  when  his  eye  caught  a  dark  fig- 
ure stealing  along  the  porch  toward  the  meadow  gate. 
Out  flew  the  non-existent  line.  Through  the  gate  hurried 
Farmer  Mercer.  Then,  as  though  catching  sight  of  the 
latter  for  the  first  time,  Horace  became  apparently  panic- 
stricken.  He  dropped  his  pole,  picked  it  up  again, 
looked  this  way  and  that  for  escape,  made  as  though 
tossing  a  trout  back  into  the  stream,  and  finally,  when 
the  farmer  was  less  than  two  hundred  yards  away, 
dropped  his  pole  again  and  plunged  into  the  bushes. 

"Hi!"  shouted  the  pursuer.  "Hi!  Come  back,  you 
rascal ! ' ' 

But  Horace  refused  the  invitation.  Instead  he  made 
for  the  spot  where  Otto  was  awaiting  him,  running,  how- 
ever, so  slowly  that  the  farmer  had  him  in  sight 
for  fully  a  minute  as  he  threaded  his  way  through  the 
trees  along  the  creek.  The  farmer's  cries  con- 
tinued and  the  farmer  still  pursued,  trying  his 
best  to  head  off  the  fugitive.  But  he  was  running  a  los- 
ing race,  for  when  Horace  picked  up  Otto  they  ran  in 
earnest  and  all  the  farmer  had  for  his  trouble  was  a  dis- 


THE  POACHING  24& 

carded  fishing  pole  minus  line  or  hook  and  a  vivid  mem- 
ory of  a  crimson  sweater. 

The  two  boys  made  a  short  cut  for  the  school,  but,  as 
luck  would  have  it,  when  they  reached  the  dormitory 
the  troublesome  Tom  Forrest  was  wide  awake.  So  Hor- 
ace, who  had  stowed  the  sweater  under  his  own  coat 
this  time,  had  to  cmuggle  it  under  his  pillow  and  await 
Tom's  departure.  But  Tom  apparently  had  no  present 
intention  of  leaving.  And  a  few  minutes  later  Chub  and 
Roy  clattered  in.  When  they  saw  Horace  and  Otto  they 
deferred  telling  Tom  about  his  pole,  and  Chub  laid  him- 
self down,  very  stiffly  because  of  his  own  pole,  on  Roy's 
bed.  Conversation  languished.  Horace  mentioned  the 
fact  that  he  and  Otto  had  been  for  a  walk  and  Chub 
replied  that  they  too  had  taken  a  stroll.  Both  sides 
waited  for  the  others  to  leave.  Suddenly  the  supper  beil 
rang.  Horace  went  to  the  wash-room  and  Otto  followed. 
Chub  slipped  off  downstairs  and  Roy  told  Tom  about 
the  pole.  Tom  good-naturedly  told  him  to  let  the  old 
thing  go.  Then  Roy,  by  the  merest  chance,  noticed  that 
his  trunk  was  unlocked,  turned  the  key,  slipped  it  into 
his  pocket  and  followed  Tom  down  to  supper.  A  moment 
after  when  Horace  went  to  return  the  sweater  to  its 
place  he  found  that  he  was  too  late.  After  a  second  of 
indecision  he  opened  his  own  trunk  and  hid  the  garment 
down  at  the  bottom  of  it.  Then  he  locked  the  trunk 
securely  and,  with  Otto  at  his  heels,  followed  the  others. 

It  was  at  half-past  nine  the  next  morning  that  Roy 


250  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

was  summoned  to  the  Principal's  office.  A  rather  stout, 
hard-featured  man  of  middle-age  whom  Roy  had  never 
seen  before  to  his  knowledge,  sat  beside  the  Doctor 's  desk. 

' '  Porter, ' '  said  the  Doctor,  ' '  does  this  belong  to  you  ? ' ' 

He  took  a  fishing-rod  from  the  desk  and  held  it  out. 
Roy  looked  at  it  and  shook  his  head. 

"No,  sir,"  he  answered. 

"Do  you  know  whose  it  is?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Do  you  own  a  fishing-rod?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Where  were  you  yesterday  afternoon  at — "  The 
Doctor  looked  inquiringly  at  the  stranger. 

"Four  o'clock,"  prompted  the  latter  gruffly,  viewing 
Roy  with  unfriendly  gaze.  Roy  hesitated  and  his  heart 
sank.     Then, 

"I  was  asleep,  sir,"  he  answered. 

"Ah!"  The  Principal  paused  and  tapped  softly  on 
the  polished  surface  of  the  desk.  Then,  "In  the  dor- 
mitory, you  mean?  '  he  asked. 

"No,  sir,  I  was  n't  in  the  dormitory." 

"Not  in  the  dormitory?  But  you  just  said  you  were 
asleep  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  sir,  1  was." 

"Whereabouts,  then?" 

"By  Wissick  Creek,  at  what  the  fellows  call  the  Deep 
Hole." 

The  stranger  snorted  triumphantly. 


THE  POACHING  251 

"Why  did  you  go  there  to  sleep?"  asked  Doctor 
Emery. 

"Why,  sir,  I — I  was  out  walking  and — and  I  laid 
down  and  got  sleepy.    So  I  just  went  to  sleep." 

He  knew  that  it  sounded  awfully  silly  and  unconvinc- 
ing. Evidently  the  Doctor  thought  so  too,  for  he  smiled 
gently  and  regretfully. 

"Don't  you  think  that  's  rather  a  strange  tale  to  tell, 
Porter?" 

"It  's  the  truth,  sir." 

"It  's  a  tarnation  lie,  that  's  what  it  is,"  said  the 
stranger  vindictively.    Eoy  turned  hotly. 

"It  is  n't  a  lie,"  he  cried.  "And  I  don't  know  what 
business  it  is  of  yours,  anyhow ! ' ' 

"Well,  I  rather  guess  it  's  my  business — "  began  the 
other.    But  Doctor  Emery  held  up  a  hand. 

"Leave  him  to  me,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Mercer,"  he 
said  quietly.  "Porter,  this  gentleman  tells  me  that  he 
discovered  a  boy,  presumably  one  of  my  boys,  fishing  at 
the  bottom  of  his  meadow  at  about  four  o'clock  yester- 
day afternoon.  The  boy  saw  him  coming  and  ran  away, 
leaving  this  pole  behind  him.    The  boy  wore — " 

' '  Ask  him  what  he  wore, ' '  interrupted  Farmer  Mercer. 

"Just  what  I  have  on  now,"  answered  Roy.  "And 
this  cap,"  he  added,  holding  it  forth. 

"Yes,  you  had  a  cap  all  right,"  said  the  farmer. 
"But  I  don't  suppose  you  happened  to  have  on  a  red 
sweater,  eh?    A  dark  red  one.?" 


252  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"No,  I  did  n't,  sir,"  replied  Roy. 

"You  have  such  a  sweater,  I  understand,  however," 
said  the  Doctor. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  have  a  crimson  sweater." 

' '  That  's  what  it  was,  crimson, ' '  said  the  farmer. 

"But  I  did  n't  wear  it  yesterday.  I  have  n't  had  it 
on  since  camp." 

' '  Have  you  loaned  it  to  any  one  recently  ? ' '  asked  the 
Doctor. 

"No,  sir." 

"Where  is  it  kept?" 

"In  my  trunk." 

"Could  any  one  borrow  it  without  your  knowing  of 
it?" 

"Why,  I  suppose  so,  sir;  that  is,  if  my  trunk  was  un- 
locked." 

"Do  you  keep  it  unlocked?" 

"No,  sir,  not  very  often." 

"Then  you  think  it  would  have  been  impossible  for 
anyone  to  have  taken  it  without  your  knowledge?" 

"I  think  it  would,  sir." 

"Do  you  know  of  anyone  else  in  school  who  has  a  red 
sweater  ? ' ' 

"No,  sir.     Gallup  has  a  red  and  white  striped  one." 

"There  was  n't  no  stripes  on  the  one  I  saw,"  said 
Farmer  Mercer  decidedly. 

"Porter,"  said  the  Doctor  after  a  moment's  silence. 
"I  'm  sorry  that  I  can't  bring  myself  to  believe  your 
story.  Is  there  anyone  who  can  substantiate  it?  Were 
you  alone  yesterday  afternoon?" 


THE  POACHING  253 

"X  'm  sorry,  sir,  that  you  won't  believe  me.  I  was  n't 
:>n  this  man's  land  yesterday,  and  I  don't  think  I  ever 
was.  Anyhow,  I  never  fished  on  it.  I  've  never  fished 
since  I  came  here." 

' '  I  hope  you  are  telling  the  truth, ' '  answered  the  Doc- 
tor gently.  "But  circumstantial  evidence  is  sadly 
against  you.  There  is  no  one  who  can  prove  that  you 
were  at  the  Deep  Hole  at  four  o'clock?" 

"No,  sir,  no  one  knows  that  I  was  there  at  that  time.'* 
Chub,  he  reflected,  had  left  him  at  least  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  before  and  so  could  n't  have  been  sure  of  his  where- 
abouts at  four  o'clock. 

"Hm!  That  's  unfortunate,"  said  the  Doctor.  He 
turned  to  Farmer  Mercer.  ' '  I  don 't  think  I  need  trouble 
you  to  remain,  sir.  I  regret  deeply  that  this  has  occurred 
and  assure  you  that  punishment  will  be  justly  meted  out 
to  the  culprit." 

The  farmer  arose. 

"It  's  got  to  be  stopped,  Doctor,"  he  said.  "As  for 
the  culprit  you  've  got  him  right  here.  That  's  the  boy 
without  a  doubt.  Put  him  in  his  red  sweater  and  I  '11 
tell  you  mighty  quick.  Just  about  his  height  he  was, 
and  kinder  slimmish  like.  Well,  you  know  you  own  busi- 
ness best.    Good  morning,  Doctor." 

And  the  farmer  passed  out  with  a  final  ugly  look  at 
Koy. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


ON  INNER  BOUNDS 


T) Y  NOON  the  news  was  all  over  school :    Roy  Porter 
-*-'  was  on  inner  bounds  for  the  rest  of  the  term! 

"Emmy  told  him,"  confided  Sid  importantly  to  a 
group  of  Juniors  and  Middlers  awaiting  the  dinner  sum- 
mons on  the  steps  of  Burgess,  "that  if  it  was  n't  for  his 
good  record  all  year  he  would  have  suspended  him ! ' ' 

"Gee!"  quoth  the  youngest  boy  in  school,  "that  's 
pretty  fierce,  just  for  fishing  on  Sunday ! ' ' 

' '  He  was  poaching, ' '  explained  Sid.  ' '  Anyhow,  Emmy 
says  he  was.  Old  Mercer  swears  he  saw  him  on  his  place 
yesterday  afternoon.  Why,  a  couple  of  years  ago  there 
was  a  fellow  fired  for  poaching ! ' ' 

"Gee !"  echoed  the  youngest  again  in  wide-eyed  amaze. 

"Well,  Sid,  who  '11  play  first?"  asked  another  of  the 
audience.    Sid  shook  his  head  dispiritedly. 

"Patten,  I  s'pose.  I  think  it  's  a  beast  of  a  shame, 
that  's  what  I  think !  Take  a  fellow  off  the  nine  just  five 
days  before  the  big  game !  Of  course  Hammond  '11  lick 
us." 

"Sure!"  was  the  concurrent  opinion. 
254 


ON  INNER  BOUNDS  255 

"If  Patten  goes  back  to  first  you  may  get  his  place  at 
right-field/'  suggested  the  youngest  boy. 

"Maybe  I  will,"  answered  Sid  gloomily,  "but  who 
wants  to  play  if  Roy  's  out  of  it  ? " 

And  the  countenances  of  the  audience  answered: 

"Who  indeed?" 

"I  '11  bet  if  we  wanted  to  we  could  get  him  back  on  the 
nine, ' '  said  Sid  presently. 

"How?"  asked  half  a  dozen  voices  eagerly. 

' '  Oh,  I  know  a  way, ' '  was  the  unsatisfying  reply. 

"Go  on  and  tell  us,  Sid!" 

"I  would  if  you  'd  promise  never  to  tell  anyone,  cross 
your  heart  and  hope  to  die. ' ' 

Everyone  promised  instantly  and  fervidly. 

"Supposing,  then,"  resumed  Sid,  "that  a  whole  raft  of 
us  were  caught  fishing  on  old  Mercer's  place.  What 
would  happen?" 

"We  'd  all  get  suspended,"  piped  up  the  youngest  boy 
promptly. 

"Inner  bounds,"  suggested  someone  else. 

' '  Huh !  I  guess  not !  It  is  n  't  likely  Emmy  would  sus- 
pend half  the  school,"  replied  Sid  scornfully.  "He  'd 
see  the  injustice  of  it,  of  course,  and  give  us  all  a  good 
blowing  up  and  let  us  go.  And  if  he  let  us  go  he  'd  have 
to  let  Roy  off  too.  It  would  be  a — a — "  Sid  paused  for  a 
word —  "it  would  be  in  the  nature  of  a  popular  protest!" 

"That  's  so,"  said  one  of  the  number.  "He  could  n't 
punish  all  of  us  very  well." 

"He  might,  though,"  muttered  the  youngest  uneasily. 


256  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"Oh,  we  don't  want  you  in  it,"  answered  Sid  con- 
temptuously. 

' ' 1  'm  going  if  the  rest  do, ' '  was  the  dogged  answer. 

"We  'd  ought  to  get  a  whole  lot  of  fellows,  though," 
one  of  the  Middlers  said. 

"Yes,  about  twenty,"  answered  Sid.  "We  can  do  it, 
too,  you  bet !  Supposing  we  call  a  meeting  of  the  Mid- 
dlers and  Juniors  for  this  afternoon  after  supper?" 

' '  Good  scheme !    Whereabouts  ? ' ' 

"At  the  boat-house.  You  fellows  tell  it  around,  but 
don 't  say  what  the  meeting  's  about.  If  you  do  Emmy  '11 
hear  of  it,  sure. ' ' 

Then  the  dinner  bell  rang  and  the  informal  conclave 
broke  up. 

"Wait  for  me  after  dinner,"  whispered  Chub  to  Roy 
at  the  table.    ' '  I  want  to  see  you. ' ' 

"All  right,"  answered  Roy  cheerfully. 

He  was  trying  very  hard  to  hide  the  fact  that  he  was 
terribly  down  in  the  mouth.  The  half -curious,  wholly 
sympathetic  looks  of  his  companions  followed  him  all 
through  the  meal  and  he  was  glad  when  it  was  over. 
Chub  caught  up  with  him  on  the  steps  and  together  they 
crossed  the  walk  and  found  seats  under  one  of  the  elms 
well  away  from  possible  eavesdroppers. 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,"  demanded  Chub,  scowling 
fiercely. 

So  Roy  told  him. 

"You  don't  think  he  will  let  you  off  in  time  for  the 
game  Saturday?"  asked  Chub. 


ON  INNER  BOUNDS  257 

"No,  I  'm  pretty  sure  he  won't.  He  's  dead  certain  it 
was  me  that  Mercer  saw. ' ' 

Chub  jumped  to  his  feet. 

' '  Where  are  you  going  ? ' '  asked  Roy  suspiciously. 

"To  see  Emmy,"  was  the  answer.  "I  '11  tell  him  that 
you  did  n  't  wear  your  red  sweater  and  that  you  could  n  't 
have  been  on  old  Mercer's  place  because  you  were  with 
me." 

"Don't  be  a  fool!"  said  Roy.  "What  's  the  good  of 
getting  into  trouble  yourself  ?  He  '11  ask  what  you  were 
doing  and  you  '11  have  to  'f  ess  up ;  and  then  the  nine 
won't  have  any  captain  on  Saturday." 

"I  don't  care,"  answered  Chub  stubbornly.  "I  got 
you  into  the  hole  and  the  least  I  can  do  is  to  get  you  out. ' ' 

"But  you  would  n't  get  me  out!  You  'd  just  throw 
yourself  in  with  me.  Look  here,  now,  Chub ;  Emmy  is  n  't 
going  to  take  any  stock  in  your  story.  He  '11  just  think 
that  we  concocted  it  between  us  this  morning.  Besides, 
you  left  me  for  almost  an  hour  and  you  can't  swear  that 
I  did  n  't  go  over  to  Mercer 's  while  you  were  gone.  It  's 
only  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  where  you  left  me. ' ' 

"But  you  were  asleep  !" 

' '  So  you  say. ' ' 

"Well,  were  n't  you?" 

"Yes,  but  Emmy  won't  believe  it.  He  '11  think  we 
were  both  out  fishing  and  that  I  went  to  Mercer's;  and 
instead  of  being  minus  a  first  baseman  on  Saturday  the 
team  will  be  short  a  first  baseman  and  a  second  baseman 
too;  also  a  captain." 

»7 


258  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"But  it  is  n't  fair/'  cried  Chub.  "I  was  the  only  one 
that  fished,  and  now  you  're  getting  the  blame  for  it.  It 
was  all  my  fault,  anyhow ;  I  made  you  go  along  when  you 
did  n  't  want  to. ' ' 

1 '  Nonsense ;  I  did  n  't  have  to  go. ' ' 

"But  you  went  to  please  me." 

"Oh,  well,  what  if  I  did?" 

"It  is  n't  fair,"  muttered  Chub.  "If  I  play  in  that 
game  and  you  don't  I  '11  feel  like  a  brute." 

"You  don't  need  to,  Chub.  Besides,  there  's  the  school 
to  think  of.  You  know  plaguey  well  we  '11  get  done  up 
brown  if  you  don't  play — " 

1 '  We  will  anyway,  I  guess, ' '  interpolated  Chub  sadly. 

" — And  that  is  n't  fair  to  the  nine  and  the  school. 
You  've  got  to  do  everything  you  can  to  win  that  game, 
Chub.  You  don't  suppose  that  I  mind  being  out  of  it  if 
we  're  going  to  win,  do  you  ? ' ' 

"But  we  need  you,  Roy !    Who  's  going  to  play  first?" 

' '  Patten,  of  course ;  he  can  do  it. ' ' 

"He  can't  bat  like  you  can." 

' '  He  '11  do  all  right, ' '  answered  Roy  cheerfully.  ' '  Now 
you  keep  your  mouth  shut,  old  man,  Avill  you  ? ' ' 

"I  suppose  so,"  Chub  muttered.  "But  I  had  n't 
ought  to. ' ' 

"Yes,  you  had,  too.  I  'm  not  the  main  thing,  Chub; 
there  's  the  school. ' ' 

"You  're  a  brick,"  said  Chub.  "All  right;  I  '11  keep 
mum  as  long  as  you  want  me  to.  But  if  you  change  your 
mind  all  you  've  got  to  do  is  to  say  so  and  I  '11  do  all  I 


ON  INNER  BOUNDS  259 

can  with  Emmy.  Promise  to  tell  me  if  you  change  your 
mind  ? ' ' 

"Honor  bright;  but  I  sha'  n't  change  it ;  I  don't  mind, 
Chub,  as  long  as  we  win." 

"Win !  Thunder,  we  are  n't  going  to  win !  We  're  go- 
ing to  get  everlastingly  walloped ! ' ' 

"No,  we  're  not,"  answered  Roy  hopefully.  "We  're 
going  to  win ;  you  see. ' ' 

' '  Look  here, ' '  said  Chub  after  a  moment 's  silence, ' '  you 
did  n't  poach  on  Mercer  and  I  did  n't.  Who  the  dickens 
did?" 

"I  can't  imagine.  I  dare  say  it  was  some  fellow  from 
the  village. ' ' 

"With  a  crimson  sweater  on?  Not  likely.  I  suppose 
it  could  n  't  have  been  your  sweater,  eh  ? " 

Roy  shook  his  head. 

"How  do  you  know?"  pursued  Chub. 

"  'Cause  mine  was  locked  in  my  trunk." 

"Sure?" 

"Certain." 

"Someone  might  have  had  a  key  that  fitted  the  lock, 
though. ' ' 

"They  might  have,  but — "  Roy  paused  and  scowled 
thoughtfully.  "Come  to  think  of  it,  Chub,  my  trunk 
was  n't  locked  yesterday  afternoon.  I  remember  now 
I  locked  it  after  we  got  back." 

' '  Was  the  sweater  there  ? ' ' 

"I  did  n't  look." 

Chub  whistled  softly. 


260  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"Bet  you  anything  some  fellow  swiped  it  and  wore  it," 
he  declared.    "Let  's  go  see  if  he  put  it  back." 

They  hurried  up  to  the  dormitory  and  Roy  unlocked 
his  trunk,  threw  back  the  lid  and  opened  the  till. 

"I  thought  I  left  it  here  on  top,"  he  muttered,  diving 
through  the  contents  of  the  till.  "Maybe  I  put  it  under- 
neath, though. ' '  Out  came  the  till  and  out  came  most  of 
the  contents  of  the  trunk.  But  there  was  no  crimson 
sweater.    Roy  turned  to  Chub  in  distress. 

"I  don't  care  if  they  took  it,"  he  said,  "but  I  hope 
they  '11  bring  it  back !  I  would  n't  lose  that  sweater  for 
anything ! ' ' 

"Lock  your  trunk  again,"  said  Chub7  "and  let  's  get 
out  of  here.  Some  one  's  coming.  Let  's  go  somewhere 
and  think  it  over." 

"If  we  only  knew  who  was  away  from  school  yester- 
day afternoon, ' '  said  Roy  when  they  were  once  more  un- 
der the  trees. 

"We  know  that  Ferris  and  Burlen  were,"  answered 
Chub  suggestively.    "They  said  so." 

' '  And  Ferris  saw  you  borrow  that  pole  from  Tom ! ' ' 
said  Roy.    Chub  sat  up  suddenly. 

"I  '11  bet  that  was  Tom 's  pole  that  old  Mercer  brought 
with  him ! "  he  cried. 

"But  you  left  it  at  Deep  Hole,  and  I  did  n't  leave 
there  until  long  after  four,  I  guess." 

' '  But  you  said  you  did  n  't  see  it  when  you  left ! ' ' 

"That  's  so;  I  'm  pretty  sure  it  was  n't  there,"  an- 
swered Roy,  thinking  hard.  "But  how  could  anyone  have 
got  it?" 


ON  INNER  BOUNDS  261 

"Don't  know,  but  I  '11  bet  someone  did.  They  might 
have  sneaked  up  while  you  were  asleep.  Horace  Burl  en 
could  do  it." 

They  looked  at  each  other  a  moment  in  silence.    Then, 

"  If  he  took  the  sweater  I  '11  bet  he  's  thrown  it  away, ' ' 
said  Roy  sorrowfully.  "He  would  n't  be  likely  to  bring 
it  back  again. ' ' 

"Why  not?  He  found  the  trunk  unlocked  and  maybe 
thought  he  could  put  it  back  again  without  anyone  know- 
ing anything  about  it.  See?  That  's  just  about  what 
happened,  Roy.  I  '11  bet  he  did  the  whole  thing  to 
get  you  in  trouble." 

"Was  n't  Tom  in  the  dormitory  when  we  got  there?" 

"Yes." 

' '  Then  maybe  he  was  there  when  Horace  got  back ;  and 
Horace  could  n't  get  at  my  trunk  without  being  seen." 

"What  do  you  suppose  he  'd  do  with  it?"  asked  Chub. 

Roy  shook  his  head. 

' '  Put  it  in  his  own  trunk  maybe, ' '  he  answered. 

"Come  on,"  said  Chub. 

Back  to  the  Senior  Dormitory  they  hurried,  for  each 
of  them  had  an  examination  at  two  and  it  was  almost  that 
hour  now.  The  dormitory  was  empty  and  Chub  stood 
guard  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  while  Roy  crossed  the 
room  and  examined  Horace's  trunk. 

' '  Locked, ' '  he  announced  softly. 

Chub  joined  him  and  they  stood  for  a  moment  looking 
at  the  trunk  as  though  striving  to  get  an  X-ray  view  of 
its  contents. 

"Maybe  we  could  find  a  key  to  fit  it, "  whispered  Chub. 


262  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"I  would  n't  like  to  do  that,"  answered  Roy,  shaking 
his  head. 

' '  No  more  would  I, ' '  answered  Chub,  ' '  but  I  'd  do  it  if 
I  was  just  a  little  more  certain  that  the  thing  was  in 
there.  I  'd  like  to  bust  it  open  with  an  axe,"  he  added 
savagely. ' ' 

Then  the  two  o  'clock  bell  rang  and  they  hurried  down- 
stairs. 

"Keep  mum  about  it,"  said  Chub,  "and  we  '11  get  to 
the  bottom  of  it  yet." 

1 '  The  trunk  ? ' '  asked  Roy  with  a  weak  effort  at  humor. 

1 '  You  bet ! ' '  was  the  answer. 

Roy  watched  practice  that  afternoon.  He  stood  on  the 
school  side  of  the  hedge  which  marked  inner  bounds  and, 
out  of  sight  himself,  saw  Patten  playing  on  first.  It  was 
lonely  work  and  after  a  while  the  figures  on  the  green 
diamond  grew  blurred  and  misty.  Then,  suddenly, 
Brother  Laurence's  advice  came  back  to  him  and  Roy 
brushed  the  back  of  his  hand  across  his  eyes  and  turned 
away. 

' '  '  When  you  're  down  on  your  luck, '  "  he  murmured, 
"  'Grin  as  hard  as  you  can  grin.'  " 

So  he  tried  his  best  to  grin,  and  made  rather  a  sorry 
affair  of  it  until  he  spied  Harry  walking  toward  the  ten- 
nis courts  with  her  racket  in  hand.  He  hailed  her  and 
she  waited  for  him  to  come  up. 

"I  'm  awfully  sorry,  Roy,"  she  greeted  him.  "I  told 
dad  you  did  n't  do  it." 

"And  he  believed  you  at  once,"  said  Roy  despondently 


ON  INNER  BOUNDS  263 

"N-no,  he  did  n't,"  answered  Harry.  "He— lie  's  a 
little  bit  stupid  sometimes;  I  often  tell  him  so." 

Roy  laughed  in  spite  of  his  sorrow. 

' '  What  does  he  say  then  ? "  he  asked. 

' '  Oh,  he  just  smiles, ' '  answered  Harry  resentfully.  ' '  I 
hate  people  to  smile  at  you  when  they  ought  to  answer, 
don't  you?" 

Roy  supposed  he  did.  And  then,  in  another  minute, 
they  were  side  by  side  on  the  stone  coping  about  the  stable 
yard  and  Roy  was  telling  Harry  everything,  even  to  the 
examining  of  Horace's  trunk  and  the  reason  for  it. 

' '  That  's  it ! "  cried  Harry  with  the  utmost  conviction. 
"He  did  it!    I  know  he  did!" 

"How  do  you  know  it?"  asked  Roy. 

"Oh,  I  just  do !  I  don't  care  if  he  is  my  cousin ;  he  's 
as  mean — ! ' ' 

"Well,  suspecting  him  won't  do  any  good,"  said  Roy. 
"We  can't  see  into  the  trunk.  And,  anyhow,  maybe  he 
did  n  't  bring  the  sweater  back  at  all. ' ' 

"Yes,  he  did  too,"  answered  Harry.  "Don't  you  see 
he  'd  want  to  put  it  back  again  so  that  you  could  n't  say 
that  someone  had  taken  it  and  worn  it  ?  It  's  there,  in  his 
trunk. ' ' 

"And  I  guess  it  '11  stay  there,"  said  Roy  hopelessly. 
"He  won't  be  fool  enough  to  take  it  out  now." 

"Could  n't  you  make  him  open  his  trunk?" 

"I  don't  see  how.  I  could  n't  go  and  tell  him  I  sus- 
pected him  of  having  stolen  my  sweater;  not  without 
more  proof  than  I  've  got  now. ' ' 


264  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATEE 

"I  suppose  not,"  answered  Harry  thoughtfully,  her 
chin  in  her  hand  and  the  heel  of  one  small  shoe  beating  a 
restless  tattoo  on  the  wall.  "You  might — "  she  lowered 
her  voice  and  looked  about  guiltily — "you  might  break 
it  open ! ' ' 

"And  supposing  it  was  n't  there?" 

' '  But  it  is  there ! ' '  cried  Harry.     ' '  I  know  it  is ! " 

"Wish  I  did,"  grunted  Roy. 

"Well,  we  '11  just  have  to  think  of  a  way,"  said  Harry 
presently,  arousing  herself  from  her  reverie.  "And  now 
I  must  go  on,  because  I  promised  to  play  tennis  with  Jack 
Rogers.    I  'm  sorry. ' ' 

"That  's  all  right,"  answered  Roy.  "I — I  've  got 
some  studying  to  do,  anyhow. ' ' 

Harry  turned  upon  him  with  alarm  in  her  face. 

"Now  don't  you  go  doing  anything  desperate,  Roy 
Porter!"  she  commanded.  "You  just  sit  still  and  hold 
light  and— and  it  '11  come  out  all  right.  You  leave  it  to 
tie!" 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

SID'S   "POPULAR  PROTEST" — AND   WHAT   FOLLOWED 

HARRY  and  Jack  played  one  set  of  tennis,  which  re. 
suited,  owing  largely  to  Harry's  evident  preoccu- 
pation, in  an  easy  win  for  Jack,  6—3. 

' '  Look  here,  Harry,  you  do  n't  really  want  to  plaj* 
tennis,  do  you?"  asked  Jack. 

Harry  started  and  flushed  guiltily. 

"Do  you  mind?"  she  asked. 

"Not  a  bit,"  he  answered.  "What  's  bothering  yout 
Methuselah  got  a  headache?  Or  has  Lady  Grey  eaten 
one  of  the  white  mice?" 

Harry  shook  her  head. 

"I  wish  I  could  tell  you,  Jack,  but  it  's  not  my 
secret,"  she  answered  regretfully  and  a  trifle  impor- 
tantly.    "Do  you — would  you  mind  taking  a  walk?" 

"No;  where  to?" 

"Over  to  the  Mercers'." 

Jack  thought  he  could  guess  then  what  Harry  was 
troubled  about,  but  he  said  nothing,  and  they  cut  across 
the  orchard,  in  which  a  few  trees  of  early  apples  were 
already  beginning  to  ripen  their  fruit,  and  headed  for 
Farmer  Mercer's. 

Harry  was  a  great  favorite  with  Mrs.  Mercer  and  was 

265 


266  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

cordially  greeted.  They  had  root  beer  and  vanilla  cookies 
on  the  front  porch,  and  then,  leaving  Jack  and  Mrs. 
Mercer  to  entertain  each  other,  Harry  ran  off  to  the 
barn  to  find  the  farmer.  She  was  back  again  in  a  few 
minutes  and  she  and  Jack  took  their  leave. 

"Well,  did  you  discover  anything?"  asked  Jack  when 
they  were  once  more  on  the  road  hurrying  homeward. 
Harry  shot  a  startled  glance  at  him.    Jack  was  smiling. 

"No,"  she  answered  disappointedly.  "How  'd  you 
know?" 

"Oh,  I  just  guessed." 

"He  insists  that  it  was  Roy,  but  he  did  n't  see  him 
near  to  at  all,  so  I  don't  see  how  he  can  tell." 

"Don't  you  think  it  was  Roy?"    asked  Jack. 

Harry's  indignant  look  was  eloquent. 

' '  Of  course  it  was  n  't !    He  says  so ! " 

There  was  a  mysterious  exodus  of  Middle  and  Junior 
Class  boys  from  the  campus  to  the  boat-house  that  even- 
ing after  supper.  And,  when,  an  hour  later,  they  came 
straggling  back  every  face  bore  the  impress  of  a  high 
and  noble  resolution.  It  had  been  unanimously  resolved 
— after  a  good  deal  of  pow-wow — that  they  should  pro- 
ceed in  a  body  on  the  following  afternoon  to  Farmer 
Mercer's  grounds  and  fish  in  Wissick  Creek. 

Behold  them,  then,  at  the  time  appointed,  marching 
across  the  fields  and  through  the  woods  for  all  the  world 
like  a  band  of  young  crusaders,  each  armed  with  a  fish- 
ing pole  and  line !  There  were  not  enough  ' '  truly ' ' 
poles  to  go  around,  so  many  of  the  party  were  forced 


SID'S  "POPULAR  PROTEST »  267 

to  cut  branches  from  the  willows.  On  to  prohibited  ter- 
ritory they  marched,  eighteen  strong,  Sidney  Welch, 
having  sought  and  received  permission  to  absent  himself 
from  practice,  in  command.  In  full  view  of  the  white 
farm-house  they  lined  the  bank  of  the  stream  and  threw 
in  their  lines.  To  be  sure,  many  of  the  lines  were  guilt- 
less of  flies  or  even  worms,  but  that  was  a  detail.  The 
minutes  passed.  One  boy  actually  hooked  a  trout,  but 
was  so  surprised  that  the  prey  escaped  before  he  could 
land  it.  And  still  the  minutes  passed,  and  the  irate 
voice  of  the  tyrant  sounded  not.  The  sportsmen  began 
to  tire  and  grew  bored.  Many  of  them  had  never  fished 
before  and  did  n't  care  about  it.  A  few  tossed  aside 
their  rods  and  fell  to  playing  stick-knife.  And  then, 
just  when  Sid  had  decided  to  give  up  and  lead  his  de- 
feated hosts  back  to  school,  a  figure  ambled  toward 
them  across  the  meadow. 

' '  He  's  coming ! ' '    whispered  Sid  hoarsely. 

Fully  half  of  the  group  exhibited  unmistakable  signs 
of  alarm ;  half  a  dozen  edged  toward  home  and  were  sum- 
moned back  by  the  stauncher  members. 

"He  can't  do  anything  to  us,"  said  Sid  nervously. 
"We  're  too  many  for  him — even  if  he  is  big!" 

"Well,  boys,  what  you  doin'?"  inquired  the  farmer 
amiably. 

There  was  a  moment  of  constrained  silence.     Then, 

"Fishing,"  answered  Sid  bravely. 

"Caught  anything?"  asked  the  farmer  as  he  joined 
the  group  and  looked  curiously  at  the  huddled  poles. 


268  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"Not  yet,  sir,"  answered  Sid. 

"Too  sunny,  I  guess,"  was  the  reply. 

The  trespassers  darted  bewildered  glances  along  their 
front.  This  awful  calm  was  worse  than  the  expected 
storm. 

"Did  n't  take  you  long  to  get  here,  by  gum!"  said 
Farmer  Mercer  presently.  "I  did  n't  just  bargain  for 
having  the  whole  school  turn  out  to  once,  but  I  don't 
know  as  it  matters.  A  bargain  's  a  bargain.  I  give  my 
word,  and  there  it  is.  '  Let  'em  come  once  a  week,  then, ' 
says  I,  'but  no  more  'n  that.'  The  way  that  gal  sassed 
me  was  a  caution ! ' '  The  farmer 's  face  relaxed  into 
something  very  like  a  smile.  "  'If  you  gave  'em  permis- 
sion to  come,'  says  she,  'they  would  n't  care  about  it 
so  much.  It  's  the  temptation  that  leads  'em,'  says  she. 
'Tell  'em  they  can  come  and  they  won't  want  to.'  Looks 
like  she  was  mistaken  there,  though. ' ' 

" Who— o?"  stammered  Sid. 

"Why,  Harry  Emery.  That  's  the  way  she  talked, 
like  a  regular  book.  Said  it  was  all  my  fault  you  boys 
got  in  trouble ! ' '  He  chuckled  hoarsely.  ' '  What  do  you 
think  of  that,  eh?  My  fault,  by  gum!  Called  me  a— a 
'perverter  of  youth,'  or  somethin'  like  that,  too! 
Could  n't  do  nothin'  but  give  in  to  her  after  that!  'Let 
'em  come  and  fish  once  a  week,  then, '  says  I,  '  an '  as  long 
as  they  behaves  themselves  I  won't  say  anything  to  'em.' 
Well,  you  ain't  had  much  luck,  to  be  sure,  but  I  guess 
you  're  clustered  kind  o'  close  together.  Guess  what 
fish  vou  fellers  catch  won't  hurt  much  of  any!" 


SID'S  "POPULAR  PROTEST"  269 

And  Farmer  Mercer  turned  and  ambled  off,  chuckling 
to  himself. 

The  trespassers  looked  from  one  to  another;  then, 
with  scarcely  a  word  spoken,  they  wound  up  their  lines 
and,  with  poles  trailing,  crept  crestfallenly  home.  And 
in  such  fashion  ended  Sid's  "popular  protest!" 

Meanwhile  events  marched  rapidly.  School  came  to 
an  end  the  following  Wednesday.  In  four  days,  that  is 
on  Saturday,  came  the  boat-race,  in  the  forenoon;  and 
the  final  baseball  game,  at  three  o'clock.  Examinations 
would  end  the  day  before.  It  was  a  breathless,  exciting 
week.  On  the  river  the  finishing  touches  were  being 
put  to  what  the  school  fondly  believed  was  the  finest 
four-oared  crew  ever  destined  to  carry  the  Brown  and 
White  to  victory.  On  the  diamond  Mr.  Cobb  and  Cap- 
tain Chub  Eaton  were  working  like  beavers  with  a  nine 
which,  at  the  best,  could  be  called  only  fairly  good.  Tap- 
pen  at  first  was  doing  his  level  best,  but  his  best  was  far 
below  the  standard  set  by  Roy.  The  nine,  discouraged 
at  first  by  the  loss  of  Roy,  was,  however,  fast  regaining 
its  form,  and  Chub  began  to  feel  again  that  he  had  at 
least  a  fighting  chance. 

It  was  a  hard  week  for  Roy,  for  there  was  always  the 
hope  that  Fate  would  intervene  and  deliver  him  from 
his  durance.  But  Wednesday  came  and  Thursday  came, 
and  still  the  crimson  sweater,  upon  the  discovery  of 
which  so  much  hinged,  did  not  turn  up.  Roy  vetoed 
Chub's  plea  to  be  allowed  to  rip  open  Horace's  trunk, 


270  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

and  Harry's  assistance,  from  which,  for  some  reason, 
Roy  had  hoped  a  good  deal,  had  so  far  worked  no  relief. 
There  were  moments  when  Roy  was  strongly  tempted 
to  accuse  Horace  to  his  face  and  dare  him  to  display  the 
contents  of  that  battered  trunk  of  his  in  the  Senior  Dor- 
mitory. But  there  was  always  the  lack  of  certainty  in 
the  other's  guilt  to  deter  him. 

Of  Harry,  Roy  caught  but  fleeting  glimpses.  But 
although  she  had  no  good  news  for  him,  no  brilliant 
plans  to  suggest,  she  was  by  no  means  idle.  She  very 
nearly  thought  herself  into  brain  fever.  So  absorbed  was 
she  in  Roy's  dilemma  that  the  permission  wrung  from 
Farmer  Mercer  to  allow  the  boys  to  fish  his  stream 
passed  entirely  out  of  her  mind  until  after  school  had 
closed.  None  of  the  members  of  the  poaching  expedi- 
tion cared  to  talk  about  it,  and  so  Harry  remained  in 
ignorance  of  it  for  the  time  being. 

Roy  finished  the  last  of  his  examinations  on  Thurs- 
day afternoon,  and,  while  he  would  not  learn  the  results 
until  next  week,  he  was  hopeful  of  having  made  a  better 
showing  than  in  the  winter.  Afterwards  he  went  to  the 
limit  of  his  prison  on  the  river  side  and  watched  from 
a  distance  the  placing  of  the  course  flags  for  the  race. 

Presently  from  down  the  river  the  brown-shirted  crews 
swept  into  sight,  rowing  strongly  in  spite  of  their  weari- 
ness. They  had  finished  the  last  work  before  the  race, 
although  in  the  morning  there  would  be  a  half-hour  of 
paddling.  Number  2  in  the  first  boat  was  splashing  a 
good  deal  as  the  slim  craft  headed  toward  the  landing, 


SID'S  "POPULAR  PROTEST"  271 

but  it  probably  came  from  weariness  rather  than  from 
poor  form.  The  second  crew  looked  pretty  well  done  up 
and  the  coxswain 's  ' '  Let  her  run ! ' '  floated  up  to  Roy 
long  before  the  landing  was  in  sight.  After  that  they 
paddled  slowly  in  and  lifted  their  shell  from  the  darken- 
ing water  is  though  it  weighed  a  thousand  pounds. 

From  behind  Fox  Island,  well  over  toward  the  farther 
shore,  a  row  of  white  shirts  caught  a  shaft  of  afternoon 
sunlight  and  Roy  watched  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  oars 
as  the  Hammond  four  returned  home  at  a  good  clip 
closely  pursued  by  the  second  crew.  Then,  on  his  own 
side  of  the  river,  a  single  scull  crept  into  view  around  the 
point  and  Mr.  Buckman,  handling  the  long  sweeps  with 
an  ease  and  rhythm  that  seemed  the  poetry  of  motion, 
his  little  brown  megaphone  bobbing  from  the  cord  about 
his  neck  in  time  to  his  movements,  shot  his  craft  up  to 
the  landing.  Then,  save  for  the  launch  gliding  across 
to  the  Hammond  side,  the  river  was  empty  and  long  lanes 
of  sunlight  were  disappearing,  one  by  one,  as  the  sun 
sank  behind  the  purple  hills. 

Roy  had  not  watched  baseball  practice  since  that  first 
afternoon.  Brother  Laurence's  advice  might  be  very  ex- 
cellent, but  a  chap  could  n't  always  follow  it;  there  were 
moments  when  the  grins  would  n  't  come.  And,  somehow, 
when  Chub  confided  to  him  that  evening  that  things  were 
looking  up,  and  could  n't  help  showing  some  of  the  cheer- 
fulness he  felt,  Roy  was  more  lonesome  and  out  of  it 
than  ever. 

The  next  morning  after  breakfast  Doctor  Emery  an- 


272  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

nouneed  that  every  student  must  be  in  the  dormitories  at 
ten  o'clock  and  have  his  trunk  and  cupboard  open  for 
inspection;  Mrs.  Emery  would  examine  the  boys'  cloth- 
ing and  take  away  for  repairs  such  garments  as  needed 
them.  The  announcement  was  something  of  a  surprise 
to  the  older  boys,  for  never  before  had  such  an  examina- 
tion been  made.  It  was  the  custom  for  the  boys  to  lay 
aside  each  week  whatever  clothing  needed  mending, 
cleansing  or  pressing,  but  a  general  inspection  was  some- 
thing unprecedented.  Many  fellows  made  up  their  minds 
to  get  upstairs  as  soon  as  possible  and  remove  certain 
things  from  their  trunks;  firearms  and  sensational  liter- 
ature, for  instance,  were  prohibited  and  subject  to  con- 
fiscation if  discovered. 

Roy's  heart  leapt  when  he  heard  the  announcement 
and  he  could  n't  help  glancing  at  Horace.  The  latter 
youth,  however,  had  apparently  not  heard  it,  for  he  was 
talking  away  with  Whitcomb  at  a  great  rate  and  his 
countenance  showed  no  sign  of  dismay  or  uneasiness. 
But  Roy  made  up  his  mind  to  be  near  Horace's  trunk 
when  Mrs.  Emery  looked  through  it !  As  he  had  nothing 
in  his  trunk  he  was  unwilling  for  the  authorities  to  see, 
he  did  n't  go  to  the  dormitory  after  breakfast.  Instead, 
he  crossed  over  to  the  gymnasium  in  the  hope  of  finding 
Chub  there.  But  Chub  was  n't  to  be  discovered,  and  Roy 
mooned  about  the  campus  for  the  better  part  of  an  hour 
and  then  went  up  to  the  dormitory.  It  was  pretty  well 
filled  and  the  fellows  were  getting  a  good  deal  of  fun 
out  of  the  occasion.    Jack  Rogers  called  across  and  told 


SID'S  "POPULAR  PROTEST"  273 

him  he  wanted  to  see  him  after  inspection.  Horace  Bur- 
len  had  his  trunk  open  and  was  sitting  nonchalantly  on 
the  side  of  his  cot.  Mrs.  Emery  soon  appeared  and,  with 
Mr.  Cobb  in  attendance,  began  her  rounds.  The  whole 
thing  looked  rather  perfunctory  to  Roy.  Perhaps  the 
fellows'  garments  were  in  good  condition;  at  least,  few 
of  them  were  laid  aside  for  mending.  When  Mrs.  Emery 
reached  Horace's  trunk  Roy  sauntered  carelessly  over 
and  looked  on.  He  imagined  that  Horace  looked  a  bit 
uneasy  when  Mrs.  Emery  began  taking  his  clothing  out  of 
the  till. 

' '  Your  things  are  in  nice  condition,  Horace, ' '  she  said. 
' '  Now  what  's  underneath  ? ' ' 

"There  's  nothing  much  there,"  answered  Horace. 
"Everything  's  all  right,  Mrs.  Emery." 

"Well,  I  guess  we  'd  better  look  at  them  and  make 
sure,"  was  the  pleasant  reply.  "Just  lift  out  the  till, 
please. ' ' 

Horace  obeyed  with  ill-grace,  and  Roy,  his  heart  beat- 
ing hard,  edged  nearer.  Garment  after  garment  came 
out  to  be  piled  neatly  on  the  floor  and  finally  the  last 
one  appeared.  The  trunk  was  empty  and  the  crimson 
sweater  was  nowhere  in  sight ! 

Roy's  eyes  darted  here  and  there  in  search  of  other 
recesses,  but  beyond  a  doubt  he  had  seen  everything  the 
trunk  contained.  Mrs.  Emery  began  to  place  the  things 
back  very  carefully,  one  by  one,  as  though  even  she  were 
looking  for  that  sweater.  Roy  wondered.  Perhaps — Of 
course  that  was  it !    Harry  had  taken  her  mother  into  her 


274  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATEE 

confidence  and  the  unusual  proceedings  had  been  insti- 
tuted on  his  account!  He  felt  very  grateful  to  Mrs. 
Emery,  but  he  was  terribly  disappointed.  There  was 
only  one  thing  to  suppose  now,  and  that  was  that  Horace 
had  thrown  the  sweater  away  instead  of  bringing  it  back 
to  school  with  him.  Of  course  red  sweaters  were  n't 
scarce,  but  that  particular  one  had  been  very  precious  to 
Roy  and  he  felt  its  loss  keenly.  He  went  back  to  his  own 
side  of  the  room  and  dolefully  locked  his  trunk.  One  by 
one  the  fellows  went  out.  Mrs.  Emery,  having  completed 
her  task,  collected  a  half-dozen  garments  and,  still  es- 
corted by  Mr.  Cobb,  took  her  departure.  Horace,  too, 
followed,  and  only  Roy  and  Jack  were  left. 

' '  Did  you  want  to  see  me,  Jack  ? ' '  asked  Roy  indiffer- 
ently. 

"Er — yes.    Just  wait  a  minute." 

He  went  to  the  door  and  called: 

"0  Chub!" 

' '  Coming ! ' '  bawled  Chub 's  voice  from  downstairs,  and 
in  a  moment  he  came  in.  He  was  beaming  like  the  cat 
that  ate  the  canary.  Roy  sighed.  It  was  all  well  enough 
for  Chub  and  Jack  to  stand  there  and  grin  at  him,  he 
reflected  sadly;  they  had  n't  lost  a  priceless  crimson 
sweater  and  were  n't  on  inner  bounds. 

' '  Have  you  told  him  ? ' '    asked  Chub  breathlessly 

Jack  shook  his  head. 

' '  Told  me  what  ? ' '  asked  Roy  resentfully. 

For  answer  the  two  boys  bade  him  rise  from  his  cot. 
Wondering,  Roy  obeyed.  Then,  between  them,  they 
lifted  bedding  and  mattress. 


Sli>'S  "POPULAR  PROTEST"  275 

"Look  underneath,"  said  Chub. 

Roy  looked. 

And  the  next  instant  he  had  his  crimson  sweater  in  his 
hands  and  was  looking  bewilderedly  from  it  to  Chub  and 
from  Chub  to  Jack  and  so  back  again  at  the  sweater. 
Chub  and  Jack  were  grinning  like  satyrs  and  enjoying 
hugely  his  bewilderment. 

"How — how  'd  it  get  there?"  whispered  Roy  finally. 

' '  Put  it  into  your  trunk  and  come  on  out, ' '  said  Chub. 
' '  We  've  got  something  to  tell  you. ' ' 

Roy  found  his  key  and  unlocked  the  trunk.  But  in  the 
act  of  laying  the  sweater  away  he  paused  and  drew  back. 
Under  one  shoulder  was  a  long  rip  where  the  stitches  had 
given  way. 

"I— I  think  I  '11  take  it  over  to  Mrs.  Emery,"  he  said, 
' '  and  get  her  to  mend  it.    That  's  a  beast  of  a  hole ! ' ' 

' '  All  right, ' '  said  Jack.    ' '  Come  on. ' ' 

So  they  took  the  precious  garment  over  to  the  Cottage, 
and  as  they  went  Chub — Jack  assisting — explained. 

"It  was  Harry's  scheme,  Roy.  She  told  her  mother 
and  Mrs.  Emery  got  the  Doctor  to  issue  that  order  about 
having  the  fellows  unlock  their  trunks.  But  Harry  knew 
that  if  Horace  had  the  sweater  he  'd  try  and  get  rid  of 
it  before  the  examination.  So  she  told  Jack  and  me  to 
come  up  here  right  after  breakfast  and  hide  where  we 
could  see  what  was  doing.  Well,  we  did.  We  got  under 
Gallup 's  bed  where  he  could  n't  see  us  and  waited.  We 
had  n't  been  there  five  minutes  before  up  comes  little 
Horace.  He  looked  around  mighty  carefully,  you  bet, 
and  then  he  unlocked  his  trunk,  dug  down  to  the  bottom 


276  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

of  it  and  pulled  out  the  sweater.  Jack  nearly  whooped 
when  he  saw  it ! " 

"That  's  right,"  agreed  Jack.  "I  came  near  spoiling 
the  whole  show ! ' ' 

' '  So  Horace  tiptoed  over  to  your  bed,  lifted  up  the 
mattress  and  stuck  the  sweater  underneath.  Then  he  lit 
out.  And  he  does  n't  know  yet  that  we  saw  the  whole 
thing!" 

' '  I  knew  he  had  it ! "  muttered  Roy.  ' '  Gee !  I  'm  aw- 
fully much  obliged  to  you  chaps." 

' '  You  want  to  thank  Harry,  I  guess, ' '  said  Jack.  ' '  It 
was  her  scheme." 

' '  That  's  so, ' '  said  Roy.  ' '  Harry 's  a  wonder !  I  sup- 
pose she  's  at  school  now.  Too  bad,  for  she  was  dying 
to  know  what  was  going  to  happen  and  I  promised  to 
come  over  as  soon  as  I  could  and  tell  her. ' ' 

Mrs.  Emery  smiled  knowingly  when  she  came  to  the 
door  and  Roy  handed  the  sweater  to  her,  but  she  only 
said  that  she  'd  be  very  glad  to  draw  the  hole  together  for 
him  and  that  Harry  would  be  delighted  to  hear  that  it 
was  found. 

"I  '11  tell  her  as  soon  as  she  gets  home  from  school," 
she  added. 

"And — and  please  thank  her  for  me,"  said  Roy. 

"Is  the  Doctor  in?"  asked  Chub 

"No,  he  's  gone  to  town,"  was  the  reply.  "But  he  '11 
be  back  very  shortly.    Will  you  come  in  and  wait  ? ' ' 

"No  'm,  thanks.  We  '11  come  back  again  at  noon," 
answered  Chub.     A.nd  when  they  had  left  the  Cottage  he 


SID'S  "POPULAR  PROTEST"  277 

turned  and  thumped  Roy  triumphantly  on  the  back. 
' '  Practice  at  three,  old  chap  ! "    he  cried. 

Roy  smiled  happily.    Then, 

"I  suppose  he  will  let  me  off?"  he  asked  doubtfully. 

"Who?  Emmy?  Course  he  will!  What  's  he  got 
against  you  now?  Both  Jack  and  I  saw  Horace  put  the 
sweater  there,  and  we  know  that  he  was  away  from  school 
Sunday  afternoon.    What  more  proof  is  wanted?" 

' '  We  've  got  Horace  done  brown, ' '  said  Jack.  ' '  Emmy 
won 't  do  a  thing  to  him  ! ' ' 

"Kind  of  hard  luck,  too,"  said  Chub,  "with  the  race 
coming  off  in  the  morning;  for  of  course  Emmy  will 
yank  him  out  of  the  boat  the  first  thing." 

"Then  we  '11  lose  the  race,  won't  we?"  asked  Roy. 

Chub  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Sure  to,"  he  answered.  "I  'm  kind  of  sorry  for 
Horace,  but  he  deserves  every  bit  of  it.  It  was  a  mean 
trick  to  work. ' ' 

Roy  was  silent  a  moment.     Finally, 

"Well,  I  don't  care  so  much  now  that  I  've  got  my 
sweater  back, ' '  he  said  thoughtfully. 

"Care  about  what?"  asked  Jack. 

"Oh,  the  rest  of  it;  being  on  bounds  and — and  not 
playing  to-morrow,"  answered  Roy.  "You  see,  I  'd  just 
about  made  up  my  mind  that  I  was  n't  going  to  play, 
anyhow. ' ' 

"Well,  you  're  going  to  play,"  answered  Chub  cheer- 
fully. "And  I  'm  pleased  purple.  A  few  of  those  nice 
long  hits  of  yours  to-morrow  will  do  a  heap  of  good,  Roy. ' ' 


278  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

But  Roy  did  n't  seem  to  hear. 

1 ' No  one  knows  about  this  but  you  and  Jack  and  me?" 
he  asked. 

"That  's  all,"  replied  Chub. 

"And  if  we  don't  say  anything  about  it,  then,  no  one 
else  will  know." 

"Don't  say  anything  about  it!"  cried  Chub.  "Are 
you  crazy?" 

' '  No,  but  there  's  the  boat  race  to  think  of,  Chub ;  we 
don't  want  to  lose  that,  I  guess.  And  if  they  take  Horace 
out-" 

' '  Now  don 't  you  be  a  silly  ass ! ' '  interrupted  Chub  in 
alarm.  ' '  Let  them  lose  the  old  race  !  I  reckon  we  don 't 
want  to  lose  the  ball  game  either,  do  we?  Now  don't  get 
sentimental  and  sloppy ;  Horace  deserves  all  that  's  com- 
ing to  him  ! ' ' 

"Maybe,"  answered  Roy,  "but  I  guess  we  '11  just  keep 
this  to  ourselves,  if  you  fellows  don't  mind." 

"But  you  won't  be  able  to  play!" 

"I  know,"  Roy  replied,  "but  I  was  n't  expecting  to, 
you  see.    And — and,  anyhow,  I  've  got  my  sweater  back ! ' ' 

"Sweater  be  blowecl!"  exploded  Chub.  "Don't  be  a 
fool,  Roy!    You  're  just  fooling,  are  n't  you,  eh?" 

"No,  Chub,  I  'm  not.  I  'm  sorry  to  disappoint  you, 
but— but  I  don't  think  it  would  be  fair  to  the  school  to 
tell  on  Horace  and  lose  the  race.  I  'd  like  to  piay  might}7 
well,  but — I  guess  we  '11  just  keep  this  to  ourselves,  fel- 
lows!" 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  BOAT-RACE 

IT  was  Saturday  morning. 
Along  the  Ferry  Hill  shore,  from  the  landing  to  a 
point  half  a  mile  further  downstream  where  the  finish 
flags  flew,  students  and  villagers,  the  former  in  most 
cases  accompanied  by  friends  or  relatives,  stood,  sat 
or  strolled  at  points  of  vantage.  On  the  river  white- 
sailed  skiffs,  chugging  launches,  gaudy  canoes  and  more 
sober  rowboats  darted  and  drifted  across  the  sunlit  water. 
It  was  the  hottest  sort  of  a  June  morning  and  only  the 
steady  little  northerly  breeze  kept  the  heat  from  being 
intolerable  to  the  spectators  along  shore. 

The  crews  had  gone  up  the  river  half  an  hour  before, 
the  men  making  the  trip  to  the  starting  point  in  com- 
fortable launches,  their  shells  streaking  along  in  tow. 
The  time  for  starting  the  race  was  already  past  and 
everyone  about  the  finish  was  eagerly  awaiting  the  dis- 
tant boom  of  the  tiny  brass  cannon  aboard  the  referee's 
launch  which  would  announce  to  them  that  the  struggle 
had  begun  two  miles  away. 

From  where  Chub  and  Roy  sat  in  the  midst  of  a  throng 
of  onlookers  on  a  high  point  of  rock  near  the  finish  line 
the  entire  course  was  in  sight  save  for  a  space  where  Fox 

279 


280  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

Island  hid  it.  Away  up  the  broad  blue  ribbon  of  water 
tiny  specks  that  danced  and  glittered  in  the  blaze  of  sun- 
light told  where  the  start  was  to  be  made,  but  only  Sid, 
who  was  the  proud  possessor  of  a  pair  of  dilapidated  field- 
glasses,  could  tell  one  boat  from  another.  At  last  there 
was  an  excited  grunt  from  that  youth. 

' '  They  're  off ! "  he  cried.  ' '  I  saw  the  smoke  from  the 
cannon  on  the  Sylph ! ' ' 

And  in  confirmation  of  his  statement  a  low  boom  came 
down  to  them  on  the  breeze.  Everyone  jumped  to  his 
feet  and  gazed  intently  upstream.  But  only  such  as  had 
glasses  were  able  to  throw  any  light  on  the  situation  up 
there.    Sid  was  popular  and  voluble. 

"We  're  ahead,  'way  ahead!"  he  cried  excitedly. 
"About  two  lengths,  I  guess." 

"Hooray!"  shrieked  Patten. 

"No,  we  're  not,  either,"  said  Sid  lamely.  "I  was 
looking  at  a  launch.    I  can 't  see  our  boat  at  all ! " 

"0 — oh!"  groaned  the  others. 

"Yes,  there  it  is!    I  think — it  looks  as  though — " 

"Well,  out  with  it!"  commanded  Chub. 

' '  I  guess  it  's  about  a  length  behind, ' '  finished  Sid. 

But  when  half  the  course  had  been  rowed  it  was  pos- 
sible to  identify  the  two  boats  without  the  aid  of  field- 
glasses.  Side  by  side  they  were,  or  very  nearly,  and  com- 
ing hard.  Someone  in  the  Ferry  Hill  shell  was  splashing 
occasionally;  they  could  see  the  water  dash  up  into  the 
sunlight.  Then,  still  rowing  about  even,  they  were  lost 
to  sight  behind  the  island  and  suspense  gripped  the  spec- 


THE  BOAT-RACE  281 

tators.  The  seconds  seemed  minutes  until,  at  last,  the 
slim  sharp  bow  of  a  boat  shot  into  sight  past  the  lower 
end  of  the  island.  Followed  a  breathless  moment  until 
the  back  of  the  bow  oar  appeared.  Then  the  group 
groaned  as  one  man.  Bow  wore  a  white  shirt ;  the  Ham- 
mond shell  was  in  the  lead.  Clear  of  the  island  it  came 
and  still  the  rival  boat  did  n't  follow. 

' '  Guess  our  boat  's  sunk, ' '  muttered  Chub  nervously. 

Then  another  brown  nose  poked  its  way  past  the  point 
and  Ferry  Hill,  three  lengths  behind,  but  rowing  hard, 
flashed  into  view.  The  crowd  on  the  shore  vented  its  re- 
lief in  a  long  yell.  Maddox,  the  tiny  coxswain,  his  mega- 
phone strapped  to  his  mouth,  was  bending  forward  and 
urging  his  crew  onward.  But  three  lengths  is  a  good  deal 
to  make  up  in  the  last  quarter-mile  of  a  hard  race, 
especially  when  one  of  the  crew  is  plainly  ragged. 

' '  Just  look  at  Hadden ! ' '  moaned  Thurlow.  "  He  is  n  't 
pulling  a  pound ! ' ' 

"Thinks  he  's  a  blooming  geyser,  I  guess,"  said  Chub 
disgustedly.  "See  him  splash,  will  you?  He  's  just 
about  all  in. ' ' 

But  Hammond's  stroke  was  also  showing  the  effects 
of  the  work  and  was  rowing  woefully  short.  Inch  by 
inch  the  brown  shirts  crept  up  on  the  white.  At  first, 
so  slow  was  the  gain,  that  no  one  noticed  it.  Then  Chub 
let  up  a  whoop  of  joy. 

' '  We  're  after  'em ! "  he  cried.  ' '  We  're  gaining  on 
'em!" 

"Yes,  but  we  can't  cut  down  that  lead,"  answered 


282  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE 

Roy,  who  had  been  freed  from  inner  bounds  for  the  race. 
"But  we  certainly  are  creeping  up!" 

"You  just  bet  we  are!"  shrieked  Sid.  "Why,  we  're 
only  two  lengths  behind!    We — we  are  n't  that  much!" 

"Length  and  a  half,"  grunted  Thurlow. 

The  two  boats  were  almost  abreast  of  them  now  and 
only  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  remained.  In  and  out 
dipped  the  red  blades  and  the  brown,  forward  and  back 
bent  the  straining  bodies,  back  and  forth  like  shuttles 
slid  the  two  red-faced,  shouting  coxswains.  The  strident 
tones  of  Maddox  came  up  to  those  on  the  hillside : 

' '  Hit  it  up,  now !  Hit  it  up  !  Ten  hard  ones !  One ! 
.     .     Two!     .     .     Three!     .     .     " 

Ten  hard  ones  made  a  difference.  The  bow  of  the 
Ferry  Hill  shell  slid  up  to  the  stern  of  the  rival  boat. 
On  the  shore  pandemonium  reigned.  Shouts,  yells, 
shrieks,  bellows ;  entreaty,  command ;  a  vocal  jumble  that 
no  one  even  heard !  For  below  there  on  the  flashing  river 
the  two  boats  were  crossing  the  finish  line,  Hammond  a 
half  length  to  the  good!  Down  went  the  white  signal 
flag. 

' '  Let  her  run ! ' '  cried  the  Hammond  coxswain. 

Past  the  judge's  boat  floated  the  shells,  victor  and  van- 
quished, while  on  the  shore  and  in  the  watching  craft 
spectators  drew  long-  breaths  and  turned  homeward.  In 
the  Ferry  Hill  boat  only  Horace  Burlen  sat  erect.  Whit- 
comb  was  leaning  weakly  on  his  oar,  Gallup 's  head  was  in 
his  hands  and  Hadden  was  huddled  limply  while  Maddox 
splashed   water   upon   him.     Hammond   was    paddling 


THE  BOAT-EACE  283 

slowly  around  in  a  circle,  coming  back.  Abreast  of  their 
defeated  rivals  they  rested  on  their  oars  and  cheered  for 
Ferry  Hill.  And  Ferry  Hill  cheered  weakly  for  Ham- 
mond.   And  the  boat-race  was  a  thing  of  the  past. 

"Another  fifty  yards  and  we  'd  have  had  them,"  said 
Chub  disappointedly. 

"Surely,"  answered  Roy.  "But  we  certainly  rowed 
the  pluckiest  kind  of  a  race.  Look  at  the  way  we  over- 
hauled them  there  at  the  last!" 

"Fine!"  said  Thurlow. 

"Swell!"  said  Sid. 

And  in  this  way  they  found  surcease  for  their  disap- 
pointment ;  which  was  as  it  should  have  been.  A  race  well 
rowed  and  won  is  something  to  be  proud  of ;  a  race  well 
rowed  and  lost  may  be  quite  as  creditable.  Pluck  and 
sportsmanship  is  always  the  criterion,  not  merely  victory. 
Many  a  time  has  a  defeated  crew  or  eJeven  taken  off  the 
first  honors.  Ferry  Hill's  game  finish  to  a  heartbreaking 
race — rowed,  as  the  timers'  watches  proved,  twelve 
seconds  under  record  time  for  the  course — more  than 
atoned  for  her  defeat. 

"After  all,"  said  Thurlow,  "it  was  n't  that  our  crew 
was  poorer  than  we  thought  it  was,  but  that  Hammond's 
was  a>  blamed  sight  better.  Why,  we  must  have  finished 
six  or  seven  seconds  under  the  record ! ' ' 

"Sure,"  answered  Chub  more  cheerfully.  "It  was  a 
dandy  crew  and  Horace  deserved  to  win.  If  the  fellows 
know  their  business  they  '11  re-elect  him  for  next  year.  I 
don't  like  the  chap  a  bit,  but  he  certainly  did  row  a  fine 
race ! ' ' 


284  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

"That  's  right,"  responded  the  rest  as  they  climbed 
the  hill  back  to  school.  And  by  the  time  the  campus  was 
reached  they  were  all  smiling  as  though  victory  instead 
of  defeat  had  fallen  to  their  lot.  All  save  Chub.  Chub 
was  very  unhappy,  but  not  over  the  race. 

"Lots  of  good  you  did,"  he  said  to  Roy  as  they  made 
their  way  across  to  the  dormitory.  "You  might  as  well 
have  squared  yourself;  we  got  beat  anyhow." 

"Maybe,  but  that  does  n't  change  the — the  ethics  of 
the  thing, ' '  replied  Roy. 

"Ethics!"  snorted  Chub.  "I  '11  bet  ethics  won't  help 
us  to  win  from  Hammond  this  afternoon.  Oh,  I  dare  say 
it  's  all  mighty  fine  and  heroic,  Roy,  but  it  's  blamed 
hard  on  me!" 

"  I  'm  sorry. ' ' 

' ' Oh,  I  dare  say,  but  you  're  not  half  as  sorry  as  I  am," 
answered  the  other  ruefully.  "Look  here,  now.  The 
race  is  all  over  and  done  with.  Let  's  go  see  Emmy  now 
and  tell  him  what  we  know.  What  do  you  say?  Shall 
we?    He  can't  refuse  to  let  you  play." 

But  Roy  shook  his  head. 

"  I  'd  rather  not,  Chub.  I  decided  not  to  tell  on  Horace 
and  I  'm  not  going  to,  ever.  That  's  settled.  Besides, 
Emmy  would  n't  let  me  play  now;  he  'd  say  I  ought  to 
have  told  him  as  soon  as  I  found  it  out. ' ' 

"Wish  to  goodness  you  had,"  groaned  Chub.  "You  're 
an  obstinate  beast,  Roy.  If  I  did  n't  like  you  so  well  I  'd 
punch  your  fool  head  for  you ! ' ' 

Chub  was  n't  the  only  one  disappointed  and  disgusted 


THE  BOAT-RACE  285 

by  Roy's  stand.  Harry  had  almost  given  way  to  tears 
when  she  had  learned  of  his  resolution. 

' '  After  all  my  trouble ! ' '  she  had  wailed.  ' '  I  don 't 
think  it  's  very — very  appreciative  of  you,  Roy  Porter!" 

But  in  the  end  she,  like  Chub  and  Jack,  had  been  bound 
to  secrecy,  promising  not  to  tell  her  father.  That  she 
had  n't  been  cautioned  against  telling  anyone  else  had 
Deen  merely  because  Roy  had  known  her  ability  to  keep 
%er  own  counsel. 

"I  suppose  he  will  let  you  come  and  watch  the  game, 

won't  he?"  asked  Chub  as  they  parted  on  the  stairway. 

"Yes,  he  gave  me  permission  to  see  both  the  race  and 
the  game,"  answered  Roy.  "And  I  '11  be  there,  never 
fear.  I  'm  going  to  help  Hadden  and  Cole  with  the 
cheering. ' ' 

"Well,  so  long.  I  '11  see  you  at  dinner.  We  're  going 
out  at  two-thirty.  You  'd  better  come  along. ' ' 

The  breeze  died  away  about  noon  and  when,  at  half- 
past  two,  the  nine  and  substitutes  went  out  to  the  field 
and  the  spectators  began  to  assemble,  the  heat  was  almost 
unbearable.  But  it  was  a  good  baseball  day,  for  after 
one  has  once  begun  to  perspire  freely  he  can  play  ball 
to  the  King's  taste.  Hammond  trotted  on  to  the  dia- 
mond soon  after  Ferry  Hill  and  went  to  work  practicing, 
Ferry  Hill  remaining  at  the  batting  net  until  a  quarter 
to  three.  Then  the  two  nines  changed  places  and  Mr. 
Cobb  began  knocking  out  the  ball. 

The  stands  were  well  filled  by  three  o'clock  and  fans 
were  waving  lustily.    Along  one  edge  of  the  field  Ham- 


286  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

mond  Academy's  supporters,  nearly  a  hundred  strong, 
squatted  on  the  grass  and  strove  to  keep  the  burning  rays 
of  the  sun  from  their  faces  by  using  their  flags  and  pen- 
nants as  screens.  Across  the  diamond  Ferry  Hill  had 
assembled,  fortunate  in  having  the  stand  behind  them 
to  throw  some  shade  where  they  sat.  Roy  and  Hadden 
and  Cole  were  to  lead  the  cheering  and  to  this  end  had 
armed  themselves  with  brown  megaphones.  Coats  were 
discarded,  while  on  the  seats  green  and  white  and  brown 
sunshades  made  brilliant  blots  of  color.  In  the  center 
of  the  main  stand  sat  Doctor  Emery,  Mrs.  Emery  and 
Harry,  and  with  them  as  guests  of  honor  were  Doctor 
Hammond,  Principal  of  the  rival  academy,  and  his  wife. 
It  looked  at  first  glance  as  though  Harry  had  joined  the 
enemy,  in  spite  of  the  brown  banner  she  carried,  for  in 
her  lap  was  something  hued  much  like  the  Hammond's 
brilliant  color.  But  it  was  only  Roy's  sweater  which, 
having  been  repaired,  Harry  had  brought  along  to  re- 
turn to  its  owner.  An  enterprising  citizen  of  Silver  Cove 
was  doing  a  rushing  business  selling  ''ice-cold  drinks! 
Lemon  pop,  sarsaparilla  and  root  beer  !    Who  's  next  ? ' ' 

At  two  minutes  past  the  hour  Chub  and  O'Meara, 
respectively  captains  of  Ferry  Hill  and  Hammond,  met 
at  the  plate  and  watched  the  umpire  spin  a  coin. 

"Heads!"  cried  O'Meara. 

"Tails,"  said  the  umpire,  stooping  to  rescue  the  coin. 
' '  What  do  you  want  ? ' ' 

"We  '11  take  the  field,"  replied  Chub. 

Then  out  they  trotted,  nine  sturdy  young  figures  in 


THE  BOAT-RACE  287 

grey  suits  and  brown  and  white  striped  stockings,  while 
Roy,  Hadden  and  Cole  shook  their  megaphones  and  stu- 
dents and  graduates  and  friends  shouted  enthusiastically. 

''Ferry  Hill!  Ferry  Hill!  Ferry  Hill!"  rang  the 
slogan,  "Rah,  rah,  rah!  Rah,  rah,  rah!  Rah,  rah,  rah! 
Ferry  Hill!" 

Hammond  answered  promptly.  Then  Ferry  Hill 
cheered  for  Hammond  and  Hammond  returned  the  com- 
pliment. The  umpire  walked  down  to  his  position  behind 
pitcher,  tossed  a  nice,  shiny  white  ball  to  the  redoubtable 
Post,  Ferry  Hill's  crack  pitcher,  and  casually  re- 
marked : 

^Play  ball!" 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  GAME  WITH  HAMMOND 

Ferry  Mill  Hammond 

Eaton,  2b  Mullen,  3b 

Bacon,  ss  O'Meara,  ss 

Thurlow,  3b  Stone,  cf 

Pryor,  If  ,  Young,  rf 

Kirby,  cf  Hartley,  lb 

Patten,  lb  Hyde,  2b 

Cole,  c  Taft,  If 

Welch,  rf  Smith,  c 

Post,  p  Eollins,  p 

POST  showed  his  ability  in  that  first  inning.  Not  a 
man  reached  first.  Three  strikes  and  out  was  the  in- 
variable rule,  and  Ferry  Hill  went  wild  with  joy.  If 
Post  could  serve  Hammond 's  best  batters  in  such  f  ashioD 

what  hope  was  there  for  her  tail-enders? 

But  Post  was  not  the  only  one  who  could  strike  out 
batsmen.  In  the  second  half  of  the  inning  Rollins  dis- 
posed of  Chub,  Bacon  and  Thurlow  in  just  the  same  fash- 
ion, and  so  far  the  honors  were  even.  Ferry  Hill,  who  had 
loyally  cheered  each  of  the  warriors  as  they  stepped  to 
the  plate,  looked  less  elated.  The  game  speedily  resolved 
itself  into  a  pitchers'  battle  in  which  Rollins  had 
slightly  the  better  of  it.    Two  innings  passed  without  a 

288 


THE  GAME  WITH  HAMMOND  289 

man  getting  safely  to  first  base.  Then  Sid,  who  was  still 
rather  bulky  in  spite  of  the  hard  work  he  had  been 
through,  got  in  the  way  of  one  of  Rollins'  in-shoots  and 
trotted  to  first  ruefully  rubbing  his  hip.  He  made  a 
valiant  effort  to  profit  by  Post's  scratch  hit  to  shortstop 
but  was  easily  thrown  out  at  second.  Not  satisfied  with 
this,  Hammond  played  the  double,  catching  Post  a  foot 
from  the  base.  That  was  in  the  last  of  the  third.  So 
far  the  game  had  dragged  along  uninterestingly.  But 
now  things  began  to  happen. 

0  'Meara  was  the  first  man  up  for  Hammond.  Perhaps 
Post  let  down  for  an  instant.  At  all  events,  the  Ham- 
mond captain  lined  out  the  first  hit  of  the  contest,  a  long, 
low  two-bagger  which  made  the  cherry  and  black  flags 
wave  ecstatically.  Then  Stone  sacrificed  and  0 'Meara 
sped  to  third.  Young  fouled  out  to  Patten,  who  made  a 
brilliant  catch  after  a  long  run.  Hartley  hit  to  Bacon 
who  threw  home.  0 'Meara  doubled  back  to  third  and 
Hartley  was  safe  on  first.  Hyde,  with  a  record  of  three 
strike-outs  against  him,  managed  to  find  something  quite 
to  his  liking  and  knocked  out  a  sharp  grounder  between 
Chub  and  Bacon.  0 'Meara  came  home  for  the  first  run 
of  the  day  amidst  wild  cheers  from  the  Hammond  side, 
and  Hartley  got  to  third.  The  coaching  was  incessant 
and  Post  got  a  little  bit  rattled. 

Taft  bunted  along  first  base  line  and  Post  ran  for  it, 
scooped  it  up  and  threw,  to  Patten.  The  throw  was  a 
little  wild,  but  it  seemed  that  Patten  should  have  got  it. 
As  it  was  it  went  over  his  head  and  had  not  Sid  been  on 


290  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

the  spot  to  back  him  up  things  would  have  been  worse 
than  they  were.  Hartley  scored,  but  Hyde  was  put  out 
at  the  plate,  Sid  being  the  hero  of  the  play.  Two  runs  to 
nothing. 

Ferry  Hill  went  in  wTith  Bacon  up.  A  scratch  hit  to 
third  followed  by  slow  fielding  took  him  safely  to  first. 
Thurlow  flied  out  to  pitcher,  Pryor  sacrificed  and  Bacon 
reached  second.  Kirby  got  four  balls  and  took  his  base. 
Patten  struck  out  miserably. 

Again,  in  the  fifth,  Hammond  scored  and  an  error  went 
down  in  Thurlow 's  column.  Ferry  Hill  had  begun  to 
have  listless  moments  which  boded  ill  for  success.  Errors 
were  becoming  too  frequent  to  be  merely  accidents;  it 
was  a  case  of  discouragement.  Post,  however,  in  spite 
of  the  gradual  weakening  of  the  most  of  the  nine,  held 
up  his  end  nobly.  And  Chub  never  for  a  moment  eased 
his  pace.  But  the  rest  of  the  team,  if  we  except  Cole, 
who  was  catching  Post  steadily  and  well,  were  plainly 
suffering  from  a  fit  of  stage-fright.  Whether  the  attack 
was  to  be  temporary  or  permanent  remained  to  be  seen. 
Ferry  Hill's  supporters  were  getting  uneasy;  three  runs 
to  nothing  seemed  a  pretty  long  lead  with  the  game  more 
than  half  over ! 

Cole  got  his  round  of  applause  when  he  stepped  to  bat 
in  the  last  of  the  fifth  and  it  seemed  to  hearten  him.  Rol- 
lins was  still  pitching  the  best  of  ball,  but  Cole  was  a 
weak  batter  and  the  Hammond  twirler  proposed  to  rest 
his  muscles  when  the  chance  afforded.  So  he  started  out 
to  dispose  of  Cole  with  as  little  effort  as  possible.     The 


THE  GAME  WITH  HAMMOND  291 

first  two  deliveries  went  by  and  were  called  balls.  Then 
came  a  strike ;  then  another  ball.  It  was  time  for  Rollins 
to  get  down  to  work.  Cole  let  the  next  one  pass  him, 
hoping  that  it  would  give  him  his  base,  but  the  umpire 
announced  strike  two.  Cole  gripped  his  bat  a  little  far- 
ther toward  the  end  and  got  ready.  Smith,  the  Ham- 
mond catcher,  read  this  to  mean  that  he  was  resolved  to 
strike  at  the  next  ball  no  matter  what  it  looked  like  and 
signalled  for  a  drop.  It  came.  The  umpire  glanced  at 
his  tally  and  waved  toward  first. 

"Four  balls!"  he  called. 

Roy  and  the  other  cheer  leaders  leaped  to  their  feet 
as  Cole  trotted  down  the  line. 

' '  Start  it  going  now ! ' '  cried  Roy.  ' '  Regular  cheer  and 
make  it  good!" 

They  made  it  good.  Then  they  made  it  better.  Chub, 
back  of  first,  was  begging  Cole  to  take  a  longer  lead  and 
assuring  him  that  Rollins  would  n't  throw.  Sid  selected 
his  bat  and  stepped  up  to  the  plate.  There  was  one  ex- 
cellent thing  about  Sid ;  he  did  n  't  know  what  it  was  to 
get  really  nervous.  He  had  his  instructions  to  sacrifice 
and  proceeded  to  do  so  by  hitting  the  first  ball  thrown 
and  trickling  it  slowly  toward  third.  Third  baseman  and 
pitcher  both  made  for  it  with  the  result  that  each  inter- 
fered with  the  other  and  when  the  ball  reached  second 
Cole  had  been  there  for  ages.  And  Sid,  to  his  own  sur- 
prise, was  safe  on  first.  With  none  out  it  looked  like  a 
score  at  last,  and  the  cheering  became  continuous.  But 
Post,  although  a  good  pitcher  and  clever  fielder,  was  a 


292  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

miserable  batter.  It  took  just  four  balls,  three  of 
them  straight  over  the  plate,  to  send  him  back  to  the 
bench. 

Chub  went  to  bat  looking  determined.  "With  two  foul 
strikes  on  him  and  two  balls  he  found  something  he  liked 
the  looks  of  and  let  go  at  it.  It  resolved  itself  into  a  long 
high  fly  to  deep  center.  Stone  was  under  it  in  time  to 
gather  it  in,  but  not  in  time  to  field  it  home  to  prevent 
Cole  from  scoring.  Ferry  Hill  jumped  and  shouted. 
They  had  made  a  run  at  last !  Then  Bacon  tried  to  bunt 
Sid  home  and  himself  to  first  and  only  succeeded  in  roll- 
ing the  ball  out  for  a  foul.  After  that  he  swung  at  a 
drop  and  missed  it.  He  let  the  next  two  go  by  and  found 
the  fifth  delivery  for  a  safe  drive  into  shortstop's  terri- 
tory, a  drive  that  was  so  hard  and  ugly  that  it  was  be- 
yond handling.  Sid  romped  home  like  a  Percheron  colt 
and  Bacon  got  to  first.  Thurlow  killed  time  until  Bacon 
had  stolen  second,  and  then  in  an  effort  to  knock  the  cover 
off  the  ball  merely  sent  up  a  pop  fly  that  was  easily  pulled 
down  by  second  baseman.  That  ended  the  fifth  inning, 
but  Ferry  Hill  was  vastly  more  encouraged.  Two  to 
three  was  n't  so  bad;  a  run  would  tie  the  score. 

But  they  were  reckoning  without  Mr.  Right  Fielder 
Young.  Mr.  Right  Fielder  Young  started  the  sixth  in 
a  way  that  made  the  Hammond  supporters  hug  them- 
selves and  each  other  ecstatically.  He  drove  out  a  three- 
bagger  over  Kirby's  head.  Then  when  Hartley  found 
Post's  first  delivery  for  two  bases,  sending  Young  home, 
the  Ferry  Hill  pitcher  went  up  into  the  air.  Hyde  ad- 
vanced Hartley  and  went  out  himself  at  first.     Taft 


THE  GAME  WITH  HAMMOND  293 

waited  and  trotted  to  first  and  the  bases  were  full. 
Things  looked  dark  for  the  home  team  just  then.  But 
there  was  some  comfort  in  the  fact  that  the  batters  com- 
ing up  now  were  the  poorest  of  the  Hammond  string. 

Smith,  Hammond 's  catcher,  knocked  a  weak  liner  which 
Bacon  got  on  the  bound  and  fielded  home  in  time  to  cut 
off  Hartley.  Ferry  Hill  took  heart  and  cheered.  Kollins 
came  to  bat,  struck  at  the  first  ball  pitched  and  sent  a 
foul  far  back  of  the  boards.  Post  steadied  down  now; 
possibly  he  forgot  his  nervousness  in  his  desire  to  even 
matters  with  Rollins  for  the  summary  way  in  which  that 
youth  had  dealt  with  him.  Post  scored  another  strike 
against  his  rival  and  then  Rollins  let  go  at  an  out-shoot. 

The  ball  bounded  off  the  tip  end  of  the  bat  and  went 
whirling  along  the  first-base  line.  Rollins  lit  out  in  the 
track  of  the  ball.  To  field  it  Patten  had  to  run  up  a  few 
steps  directly  in  Rollins'  path.  He  got  the  ball  on  a  low 
bound  and  tried  to  step  aside  and  tag  Rollins  as  he  passed. 
He  tagged  him  all  right  but  he  did  n  't  get  out  of  his  way 
in  time,  and  the  runner  with  head  down  collided  with 
him  and  sent  him  sprawling  three  yards  away.  The  in- 
ning was  over,  but  Patten  was  in  a  bad  way.  Rollins' 
head  had  struck  him  between  chest  and  shoulder  and  as 
a  result  hia  shoulder  blade  was  broken.  It  was  not  seri- 
ous, said  the  doctor,  but  it  ended  his  playing  for  that  day. 
Patten  begged  to  have  his  shoulder  bandaged  and  be 
allowed  to  return  to  the  game,  but  the  doctor  would  n't 
consider  the  idea  for  a  moment.  And  Chub,  watching 
Patten  being  led  away  to  the  gymnasium  for  repairs,  felt 
as  though  the  very  bottom  had  fallen  out  of  things! 


294  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

Pryor  opened  the  last  of  the  sixth  with  a  "Texas  Leag- 
uer" behind  first  that  gave  him  his  base  with  seconds  to 
spare.  But  Kirby  went  out  on  strikes.  Carpenter,  a 
substitute  batting  in  Patten's  place,  followed  suit  and  the 
inning  came  to  an  inglorious  end  when  Cole  sent  a  liner 
straight  into  Kollins'  glove. 

Chub  brought  Kirby  in  from  center  to  first  and  placed 
Carpenter  in  center.  Kirby  was  not  a  wonderful  base- 
man by  any  means,  but  he  was  the  best  at  Chub's  com- 
mand. Carpenter  was  merely  a  common  or  garden 
variety  of  player  who  could  n't  be  depended  on  to  hit 
the  ball,  but  could  pull  down  flies  when  they  came  near 
him  and  field  them  home  with  some  chance  of  their  reach- 
ing the  plate  in  course  of  time.  Chub  was  pretty  well 
discouraged  by  this  time;  only  Mr.  Cobb  kept  a  cheer- 
ful countenance. 

"It  's  never  over  until  the  whistle  blows,"  he  said. 
And  Chub  was  too  miserable  to  notice  that  the  coach  had 
confused  baseball  with  football. 

The  seventh  opened  with  the  score  four  to  two  and 
ended  with  it  seven  to  three.  For  Post  went  quite  to 
pieces  and  the  only  wonder  was  that  Hammond  did  n't 
score  six  runs  instead  of  three.  Mullen,  the  head  of  the 
Hammond  batting  list,  found  Post  for  two  bases, 
0  'Meara,  the  captain,  hit  him  for  two  more,  scoring  Mul- 
len, and  Stone  hit  safely  to  right  field.  Sid  could  n't  get 
under  that  ball  in  time,  but  he  did  field  it  back  so  as  to 
keep  0 'Meara  on  third.  Then  Post  presented  Young 
with  his  base,  and  the  bags  were  full.     Hartley  hit  to 


THE  GAME  WITH  HAMMOND  295 

Bacon  and  a  double  resulted,  O'Meara  scoring.  Hyde, 
after  hitting  up  six  fouls,  none  of  which  were  capable  of 
being  caught,  lined  out  a  hot  ball  that  escaped  Chub  by  a 
foot.  Stone  scored  the  third  run  of  the  inning.  Then 
Taft  obligingly  brought  the  slaughter  to  an  end  by  put- 
ting a  foul  into  Cole's  mitten. 

Sid  opened  the  last  half  of  the  seventh  for  Ferry  Hill 
by  a  splendid  drive  into  deep  left  field  that  brought  a 
throb  of  hope  to  the  breasts  of  the  wavers  of  the  brown 
and  white  nags.  But  stupid  coaching  by  Bacon  resulted 
in  his  being  caught  off  of  first.  Post  surprised  everyone 
by  hitting  to  third  and  reaching  his  base  ahead  of  a  slowly 
fielded  ball.  Chub  flied  out  to  left  fielder.  Bacon  got  his 
base  on  balls.  Thurlow  hit  weakly  to  second  who  tried 
to  tag  his  base,  slipped  and  fell  and  only  recovered  his 
footing  in  time  to  keep  Post  from  scoring.  Pryor  knocked 
a  high  fly  back  of  third  which  that  baseman  allowed  to  go 
over  his  head  and  Post  came  in  with  Ferry  Hill's  third 
tally.    Kirby  struck  out.    Score,  7—3. 

Harry  had  viewed  proceedings  with  a  sinking  heart 
and  when  Post  went  to  pieces,  making  it  evident  that 
Kirby  would  have  to  be  taken  from  first  and  placed  in  the 
box  if  only  to  keep  the  opponents  from  entirely  running 
away  with  the  game,  she  felt  desperate.  Perhaps  she 
would  have  continued  to  feel  that  way  with  nothing 
resulting  had  she  not,  while  glancing  dejectedly  about 
her,  spied  Horace  Burlen  in  the  throng  below  her.  Post 
had  just  reached  first  at  the  moment  and  in  the  resulting 


296  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

delight  Harry's  departure  was  not  noticed  by  the  Doctor 
or  his  wife.  She  called  to  Horace  over  the  heads  of  the 
throng  surrounding  him. 

"Horace  !  Please  come  here  a  minute.  I  want  to  speak 
to  you ! ' ' 

"When  he  had  made  his  way  out  of  the  crowd  and  joined 
her  she  led  him  to  a  quiet  corner  at  the  back  of  the  stand. 
Harry 's  cheeks  were  flushed  and  her  eyes  were  sparkling 
excitedly. 

"Horace,"  she  began  breathlessly,  "Kirby  will  have 
to  pitch  and  there  's  no  one  to  take  his  place  on  first! 
"We  '11  be  beaten  as  sure  as  anything  if  Roy  does  n  't  play. 
You  've  got  to  tell  the  truth  to  Dad,  Horace ! ' ' 
Horace  flushed  a  little  but  only  laughed  carelessly. 
"You  've  just  got  to,  Horace!"  she  cried.  "If  you 
don't  tell  I  will.     I  don't  care  if  I  did  promise  Roy!" 

' '  Say,  Harry,  what  's  the  matter  with  you  ? ' '  Horace 
asked.    "What  are  you  going  to  tell?" 

' '  About  this  ! ' '  She  held  up  the  crimson  sweater 
before  him.  "You  know  what  I  mean,  Horace,  and 
there  's  no  use  in  pretending  you  don't.  You.'ve  got  to 
go  to  Dad  this  minute  and  tell  him ! ' ' 

Horace's  eyes  fell  and  the  blood  rushed  to  his  cheeks. 
He  turned  away. 

"I  can't  stay  here  and  talk  nonsense  with  you,"  he 
muttered,  "I  want  to  see  the  game." 
But  Harry  seized  him  by  the  arm. 
"Why  won't  you  own  up,  Horace?"     she  pleaded. 
"You  might.    Roy  saved  you  and—" 


THE  GAME  WITH  HAMMOND  297 

"How  did  he?"  asked  Horace,  pausing. 

"Why,  by  not  telling.  He  knew  yesterday.  But  he 
would  n  't  tell ;  he  would  n  't  let  us  tell ;  he  said  if  he  did 
you  'd  lose  your  place  in  the  boat  and  we  'd  get  beaten. 
He  made  us  promise  not  to  tell  Dad,  but  I  will,  just  the 
same,  if  you  don't  promise  this  minute  to  do  it  your- 
self!" 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  the  sweater,"  muttered 
Horace. 

'  *  Oh,  you  big  fibber !  Jack  and  Chub  were  under  thfc, 
bed  and  saw  you  take  it  out  of  your  trunk  and  put  it 
under  Roy 's  mattress !  And  we  told  Roy,  and  he 
would  n't  tell  on  you  because  he  said—" 

"Oh,  I  've  heard  all  that  once,"  he  interrupted 
roughly.  "I  guess  if  he  did  n't  tell  he  had  a  mighty 
good  reason  for  it ! " 

"I  've  told  you  why  he  did  n't!"  cried  Harry  impa- 
tiently. "Do  you  suppose  he  wanted  not  to  play  to-day? 
He  spared  you  and  I  think  you  might  do  that  much  to 
help  him — and  me — and  the  school." 

"It  was  just  a  sort  of  joke,"  murmured  Horace,  his 
eyes  on  the  ground.  "I  did  n't  know  it  was  going  to 
cause  so  much  bother."  He  laughed  uncertainly, 
' '  What  's  the  good  of  making  more  rumpus  now  ?  Roy 
can 't  win  the  game ;  we  're  beaten  already. ' ' 

"You  don't  know!"  insisted  Harry.  "Anyhow,  it 
would  be  only  fair  and  square ;  and  you  want  to  be  that, 
don't  you,  Horace?" 

"And  get  fired?"  he  asked  glumly.    "Oh,  sure!" 


298  THE  CKIMSON  SWEATEB 

"You  won't  be  fired!  Why,  it  's  almost  the  end  of 
school!" 

Horace  was  silent  a  moment,  his  gaze  on  the  diamond 
where  the  Hammond  second  baseman  was  picking  him- 
self up  from  the  ground  in  a  successful  effort  to  head  off 
Post  at  the  plate. 

"Look  here,  Harry,"  he  said  finally,  "do  you  really 
think  Roy  kept  quiet  so  that  I  could  stay  in  the  race? 
Honest  injun?" 

"I  know  he  did!  Chub  and  Jack  will  tell  you  the 
Bame  thing !    Honest  and  honest,  Horace ! ' ' 

There  was  another  moment  of  hesitation.  Then  Hor- 
ace squared  his  shoulders,  laughed  carelessly  and  turned 
away. 

"All  right,  Harry,"  he  said.  "Lead  me  to  the 
slaughter ! ' ' 

"You  go  into  the  box,"  said  Chub  to  Kirby,  "and  for 
goodness  sake  hold  'em  down,  old  man!  Post,  you  go 
out  to  center,  will  you  ?    Who  've  we  got  for  first,  sir  ? " 

And  Chub  turned  in  perplexity  to  Mr.  Cobb. 

' '  Thurlow ;  let  Reynolds  take  his  place  at  third. ' ' 

Chub  groaned. 

"Maybe  I  'd  better  try  it  myself,  sir.  And  let  Rey- 
nolds take  second." 

But  Mr.  Cobb  shook  his  head. 

"Won't  do,"  he  answered.  "You  're  needed  where 
you  are." 

"All  right.  Where  's  Reynolds  ?  Hello,  Roy!  Isn't 
this  the  limit  ?    If  only  you  had  n  't  been  such  an  idiot ! ' ' 


THE  GAME  WITH  HAMMOND  299 

"Why?"  asked  Roy,  his  face  one  broad  smile. 

' '  Why  ?  Why !  Oh,  go  to  thunder !  Because  if  you 
were  playing  first  we  would  n't  be  in  such  a  hole,  that  's 
why. ' ' 

"  I  'm  going  to, ' '  answered  Roy. 

"Going  to  what?" 

"Play  first,  if  you  want  me  to." 

"Want  you  to!"  shouted  Chub.  "But  what  about 
Emmy?" 

"He  's  given  me  permission.  Horace  has  'fessed  up. 
It  's  all  right." 

Chub  hugged  him  violently  and  deliriously. 

' ' Oh,  good  boy ! "  he  cried.  "It  's  all  right,  sir ! "  he 
called  to  Mr.  Cobb.  "We  won't  need  Reynolds.  Por- 
ter 's  going  to  play!" 

Mr.  Cobb  hurried  across  from  the  bench  and  nearly 
wrenched  Roy's  hand  off. 

' '  Doctor  willing,  is  he  ?  That  's  good !  That  's  fine ! 
Do  your  best,  Porter,  do  your  best.  Eaton  's  a  bit  dis- 
couraged, but  I  tell  him  it  's  not  over  till  the  whistle — 
that  is,  till  the  umpire — er — Well,  good  luck ! ' '  And  the 
coach  hurried  over  to  the  scorer  to  arrange  the  new  bat- 
ting list. 

"Come  on,  fellows !"  cried  Chub.  "Let  's  win  this  old 
game  right  here !" 

And  Ferry  Hill  trotted  out  to  the  field  for  the  first 
of  the  eighth. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER  DISAPPEARS 

"CI EVEN  to  three,"  muttered  Roy  as,  drawing  his  big 
KJ  leather  mitten  on,  he  stepped  to  the  base  and  held 
his  hands  out  toward  Kirby.  "That  's  four  to  make  up 
to  tie  them."  Sock  came  a  ball  against  the  hollow  of 
his  mitt.  "If  Kirby  does  his  part,  though,  and  they 
don't  get  any  more  runs,  we  've  got  a  chance."  Back 
went  the  ball  to  the  new  pitcher  and  once  more  it  flew 
across  to  Roy.  "If  I  was  n't  surprised  when  Emmy 
sent  for  me  !  '  There  seems  to  have  been  a  mistake  made, 
Porter.  I  trust  I  have  not  discovered  it  too  late  for  the 
success  of  the  nine.  If  you  are  wanted,  take  a  hand,  and 
good  luck  to  you.  Come  and  see  me  after  supper,  please. ' 
'What  it  means — (I  beg  pardon,  Kirb ;  my  fault!) — I 
don't  know;  unless  Horace  told  on  himself;  he  was  there 
looking  kind  of  down  in  the  mouth.  I  'm  certain  Harry 
did  n't  break  her  promise!" 

"All  right,  fellows!"  shouted  Chub,  throwing  the 
practice  ball  to  the  umpire  and  trotting  to  his  position. 
"After  'em  hard,  now.    We  're  all  back  of  you,  Kirb!" 

Cole  settled  his  mask  into  place  and  Kirby  sent  three 
trial  balls  to  him.  Then  Smith,  the  first  of  the  Ham- 
mond batsmen,  stepped  into  the  box. 

300 


THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER  DISAPPEARS  301 

"Hello,  you!"  called  Chub  cheerfully  as  Roy  edged 
over  toward  him.  "It  's  good  to  see  you  there,  old  chap. 
Get  after  'em,  Roy.    We  're  not  beaten  yet!" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!"  answered  Roy.  "We  '11  have  them 
on  the  run  in  a  minute." 

A  whole  lot  depended  on  Kirby,  and  everyone  realized 
that  fact.  If  he  could  pitch  his  best  game  and  hold  Ham- 
mond down  to  her  present  score  there  might  be  a  chance 
of  Ferry  Hill's  doing  something  in  the  next  two  innings. 
But  Kirby  had  had  but  a  few  minutes  of  warming  up 
work  and  might  prove  stiff.  He  got  one  strike  on  Smith 
and  then  sent  him  four  balls,  one  after  the  other,  seem- 
ingly unable  to  find  the  plate.  Smith  trotted  to  first. 
Chub  called  laughingly  across  to  Kirby. 

"That  's  right,  Kirb,  give  'em  a  show." 

Kirby  smiled  and  dug  his  toe  into  the  ground. 

Rollins  tapped  the  plate  with  his  bat  and  shot  a  ques- 
tioning look  toward  Smith  on  first.  Kirby  pitched  wide, 
Cole  slammed  the  ball  down  to  Roy  and  Roy  swung  at 
the  runner.  But  Smith  was  full-length  in  the  dust  with 
his  fingers  clutching  a  corner  of  the  bag.  Roy  tossed  the 
ball  to  Kirby.  Smith  crawled  to  his  feet,  dusted  his 
clothes  and  took  a  new  lead. 

"Strike  one!"  droned  the  umpire. 

Smith  trotted  back  to  the  bag.  The  coach  sent  him  off 
again. 

' '  Take  a  lead,  take  a  lead ! "  he  shouted  through  his 
hands.  ' '  He  won 't  throw  it !  Down  with  his  arm,  now  J 
Look  out!" 


302  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE 

But  the  warning  came  too  late.  Kirby  had  turned 
suddenly  and  thrown  swiftly,  and  Roy's  downward 
swinging  hand  had  found  Smith  a,  good  six  inches  away 
from  base. 

"Out  on  first,"  said  the  umpire. 

From  the  Ferry  Hill  side  came  the  sound  of  clapping 
hands  and  cheering  voices.  Smith  walked  back  to  the 
bench  and  Roy,  moistening  his  mitten  in  the  inelegant 
but  effective  manner  of  the  ball  player,  trotted  out  to  his 
position. 

"One  gone,  Cap!"  he  cried.  "Let  's  have  the  next 
one!" 

"All  right,  Roy.    Next  man,  fellows !" 

The  next  man  was  easy  for  Kirby.  Rollins  already 
had  one  strike  and  one  ball  on  him  and  Kirby  finished 
him  up  in  short  style,  causing  him  to  strike  a  full  six 
inches  above  a  deceptive  drop  and  then  putting  a  swift 
ball  directly  over  the  center  of  the  plate  and  catching 
Rollins  napping. 

"Well,  well,"  cried  Chub  merrily.  "Only  one  more, 
Kirb.    They  can 't  touch  you,  old  man ! ' ' 

But  that  was  n't  quite  so,  for  Mullins,  the  head  of  the 
rival  batting  list,  touched  him  for  two  bases.  O'Meara 
came  up  plainly  resolved  to  do  as  well  if  not  better,  but 
only  brought  the  first  half  to  a  close  by  popping  up  a 
high  foul  which  Thurlow  had  no  trouble  with. 

As  the  teams  changed  places  the  cheering  broke  out 
simultaneously  from  both  sides  of  the  diamond,  and  flags 
waved  tumultuously. 


THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE  DISAPPEARS  303 

"Who  's  at  bat?"  asked  Chub  as  he  trotted  to  the 
bench. 

"Carpenter,"  said  the  scorer.    "No,  I  mean  Porter. '? 

"All  right,  Roy,"  said  Chub. 

"Take  it  easy,"  counselled  Mr.  Cobb.  "All  you  want 
is  to  reach  first.    ' '  We  '11  get  you  on  from  there. ' ' 

' '  What  's  he  like  ? ' '  asked  Roy  of  Chub  as  he  stooped 
to  select  his  bat. 

' '  Oh,  kind  of  hard.  Look  out  for  slow  balls ;  he  's  full 
of  'em  and  works  'em  on  you  when  you  're  least  expect- 
ing 'em.     You  can  hit  him." 

"Hope  so,"  answered  Roy  as  he  selected  his  stick 
and  walked  to  the  plate.  As  he  faced  the  Hammond 
pitcher,  who  grinned  at  him  in  probable  recollection  of 
the  camp  adventure,  the  Ferry  Hill  supporters  started  a 
cheer. 

"Rah,  rah,  rah!  Rah,  rah,  rah!  Rah,  rah,  rah!  Por- 
ter!" 

Roy  felt  a  little  warming  tingle  in  the  region  of  his 
heart.  Then  he  was  swinging  his  bat  back,  for  Rollins 
had  undoubled  and  shot  the  ball  forward.  Chub  stag- 
gered back  out  of  its  way. 

"Ball!"  droned  the  umpire. 

Then  came  what  was  seemingly  a  straight  delivery  and 
Roy  swung  at  it.  But  it  went  down  so  suddenly  when  a 
few  feet  from  the  plate  that  his  bat  traveled  several 
inches  above  it  and  threw  Roy  off  his  balance.  Ham- 
mond jeered  and  laughed. 

"Don't  try  to  slug,  Roy!"  called  Chub.  "Easy  does 
it!" 


304  THE  CEBISON  SWEATEE 

And  so  it  proved.  Rollins  sent  a  "teaser,"  one  of  his 
puzzling  slow  ones,  but  Roy  had  the  good  fortune  to  guess 
it  before  it  reached  the  plate.  He  met  it  with  an  easy 
swing  and  made  for  first.  Third  baseman  smothered  it 
as  it  arose  from  the  ground  for  the  first  bound  and  threw 
swiftly.  But  Roy  was  like  a  streak  when  it  came  to  run- 
ning bases,  and  this  fact,  coupled  with  the  fact  that  first 
baseman  had  to  step  wide  of  the  bag  to  get  the  throw, 
made  him  safe.  Chub  raced  over  to  coach  and  seized  the 
moment  while  the  pitcher  was  returning  to  his  box  to 
whisper  instructions. 

' '  Don 't  wait  for  a  hit ;  steal  on  the  first  ball. ' ' 

Cole  appeared  at  the  plate  and  Chub  retreated  to  the 
coacher  's  box  and  knelt  on  the  ground. 

"Not  too  far,"  he  counselled  anxiously.  "Watch  out! 
Wait  for  the  hit.    Charlie  '11  send  you  down." 

Rollins  looked  over  at  him,  but  did  n't  throw.  The 
new  player  was  plainly  timid  and  would  n't  give  much 
trouble.  So  he  turned  his  attention  to  Cole.  Roy 
pranced  nervously  about  on  his  toes  a  scant  yard  from 
base  while  the  pitcher  doubled  himself  into  a  knot.  Then, 
as  the  arm  began  to  drop  swiftly,  Roy  leaped  forward 
and  shot  for  second. 

' '  He  's  gone  ! ' '  cried  the  infielders. 

Cole  swung  at  the  ball,  which  was  a  drop,  the  Ham- 
mond catcher  found  it  near  the  ground,  side-stepped  and 
sent  it  swiftly  down  to  second.  Unfortunately  for  suc- 
cess, he  delivered  it  head-high  to  shortstop  and  in  the 
moment  that  it  took  for  the  latter  player  to  swing  down 
with  it  Roy  found  safety.     Squatting  on  the  bag  he 


THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE  DISAPPEARS  305 

waited  for  proceedings  to  resume,  dusting  the  brown 
soil  from  the  front  of  his  shirt  and  hearkening  happily  to 
the  cheers  which  thundered  from  the  Ferry  Hill  side. 
Then  he  was  up  and  taking  a  good  long  lead  in  response 
to  the  appeals  of  Thurlow  back  of  third.  Rollins  evi- 
dently felt  sore,  for  Roy  had  done  what  few  had  suc- 
ceeded in  doing  that  spring;  he  prided  himself  on  the 
fact  that  runners  found  it  mighty  hard  work  to  steal 
bases  on  him !  So  he  tried  twice  to  catch  Roy  napping 
on  second,  but  failed  each  time.  Cole  sent  up  a  foul  and 
then  fanned  out. 

Sidney  Welch  took  his  place.  Sid  had  made  a  good 
record  to-day  for  a  youngster  and  Roy  looked  for  a  hit. 
It  came  at  once.  Sid  took  a  try  at  the  first  delivery  and 
sent  it  speeding  into  short  center  field.  Center  slammed 
the  ball  down  to  third,  but  Roy  was  up  again  by  the 
time  it  got  there.  Post  came  to  bat  looking  determined. 
Roy  danced  along  third  base  line  and  once  narrowly 
escaped  a  put-out  when  Rollins  slammed  the  ball  over  to 
third.  Then  Post  let  drive  at  a  straight  one  and  lifted  a 
high  fly  into  short  left  field.  He  was  caught  out  and 
neither  Roy  nor  Sid  had  a  chance  to  advance. 

' '  Two  gone ! ' '  shouted  Cole  over  at  first.  ' '  Everything 
goes ! ' ' 

' '  You  've  got  to  score,  Roy ! ' '  coached  Thurlow.  ' '  Take 
a  good  lead  now  !  That  's  it ! " 

Chub  was  at  bat.  Rollins  sent  a  strike  over.  Chub 
tapped  the  plate.  Sid  edged  farther  away  from  first. 
Rollins  pitched  again. 

"He  's  gone!"  was  the  cry.  "Watch  home!" 


306  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

Sid  was  lighting  out  for  second.  Shortstop  ran  in 
and  catcher  threw  down  to  him.  Roy  ran  a  few  steps 
farther  toward  the  home  plate  and  stayed  there,  ready 
to  go  on  or  return  to  third.  Sid  doubled  back  for  first. 
Shortstop  sized  up  the  situation,  made  as  though  to 
throw  to  third  and  then  sent  the  ball  to  first.  Sid  turned 
again  toward  second.  Roy  was  dancing  about  a  third  of 
the  way  home. 

"Watch  home!"  shouted  the  catcher. 

But  first  baseman  did  n't  hear,  or  hearing  thought  he 
knew  better  what  to  do.  Sid  was  between  him  and 
second  baseman  now,  scrambling  back  and  forth  like  a 
rat  in  a  trap.    First  threw  to  second  and — 

' '  Home !    Home ! ' '  shrieked  the  rest  of  the  players. 

Second  threw  home,  but  he  threw  wildly  and  the  ball 
struck  the  ground  to  the  left  of  the  catcher  and  went 
bounding  back  toward  the  fence. 

Roy  picked  himself  up  and,  patting  the  dust  from  his 
clothes,  walked  panting  to  the  bench.  Sid  had  reached 
third.  Ferry  Hill  shouted  and  capered  and  waved  brown 
and  white  flags. 

The  scorer  credited  Ferry  Hill  with  one  more  precious 
tally  and,  amid  noisy  encouragement,  Chub  stepped 
smiling  back  into  the  box. 

Rollins  was  the  least  bit  rattled  for  the  first  time  dur- 
ing the  game.  Chub  found  a  nice  one  and  Sid  raced 
home.  Out  between  right  fielder  and  center  fielder  the 
ball  fell  to  earth  untouched  and  Chub  was  on  first. 

The  cheering  from  the  Ferry  Hill  side  was  wild  and 
discordant,  and  it  did  n't  stop  for  an  instant  until  Chub 


THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER  DISAPPEARS  307 

was  caught  stealing  second  and  put  out  two  yards  from 
the  bag. 

Ferry  Hill's  supporters  were  happier  than  they  had 
been  for  an  hour  and  a  half.  To  be  sure,  Hammond  was 
still  two  runs  to  the  good,  but  seven  to  five  sounded  a 
whole  lot  nicer  than  seven  to  three ;  and,  besides,  Ferry 
Hill's  best  batsmen  were  coming  up  for  the  last  of  the 
ninth.  Hammond  went  to  bat  with  Stone,  her  center 
fielder  up. 

But  Kirby  had  found  his  pace.  Stone  stood  idle  while 
two  strikes  and  one  ball  were  called  on  him.  Then  he 
swung  at  what  seemed  to  be  made  for  his  purpose.  Then 
he  went  back  to  the  bench.  Young  took  his  place.  Young 
was  a  good  hand  with  the  stick  and  even  Kirby 's  most 
puzzling  balls  could  n't  keep  him  from  first.  He  lined 
out  the  hottest  kind  of  a  sizzler  over  Chub 's  head  and  was 
ready  to  go  to  second  when  Post  fielded  it.  But  he  de- 
cided to  stay  where  he  was  for  the  present.  Perhaps  had 
he  known  what  was  to  befall  Hartley  and  Hyde  he  would 
have  risked  more  then.  As  it  was,  when  he  left  first  base 
it  was  not  to  take  second  but  to  trot  out  to  his  position  in 
right  field.  For  Kirby  struck  out  the  next  two  batsmen 
in  a  style  extremely  pleasing  to  his  friends  and  was  the 
lecipient  of  an  embarrassing  ovation  when  he  walked  to 
the  bench. 

' '  Here  's  our  last  chance, ' '  said  Chub  a  trifle  nervously 
as  he  ran  in.  "You  're  up,  Bacon.  Do  something  now, 
for  goodness  sake ! ' ' 

Well,  not  to  prolong  the  suspense,  Bacon  did  some- 
thing.   He  struck  out ;  struck  out  as  miserably  as  though 


308  THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER 

his  side  did  n't  need  two  or  three  runs  the  worst  way 
in  the  world.  And  he  went  back  to  the  bench  and  Chub 
and  the  others  looking  ready  to  cry. 

' '  Hard  luck, ' '  said  Chub,  striving  to  seem  cheerful. 

"' '  Rotten  batting ! ' '  muttered  Bacon  angrily. 

Thurlow  brought  hope  back,  however,  by  getting  to 
first  on  second  baseman's  juggling  of  a  liner.  Pryor 
went  to  bat  with  instructions  to  bunt,  tried  it  twice  and 
then  went  out  to  third  baseman.  There  were  two  out, 
a  man  on  first  and  the  tag  end  of  the  batting  list  was  in 
sight.  On  the  Hammond  side  the  cheering  was  loud  and 
contented.  On  the  opposite  side  the  brown  flags  were 
drooping  dejectedly  and  the  stands  were  emptying. 
Clearly,  defeat  was  to  be  Ferry  Hill's  portion  to-day. 

But  Kirby  was  n't  ready  to  acknowledge  it.  At  least, 
he  told  himself,  he  would  have  one  good  bang  at  that 
ball.  He  could  do  no  more  than  go  out.  So  he  slammed 
away  at  two  deliveries,  waited  while  a  third  went  by  and 
then  hammered  out  a  clean  two-base-hit  that  sent  Thur- 
low ambling  across  the  plate  for  the  sixth  tally.  Some- 
how, that  seemed  to  change  the  entire  aspect  of  things. 
Homeward-bound  spectators  paused  and  edged  back  to 
the  diamond.  Ferry  Hill's  cheers,  which  for  the  last 
five  minutes  had  been  weak  and  quite  evidently  "ma- 
chine made,"  now  broke  out  afresh  and  the  air  became 
full  of  waving  brown  flags. 

It  was  ' '  Porter  at  bat ! ' '  now,  and  Chub  was  whisper- 
ing intensely  in  Roy's  ear,  accompanying  him  to  the 
plate  and  parting  from  him  finally  with  a  slap  on  the 
shoulder  that  was  heard  across  on  the  stand. 


THE  CEIMSON  SWEATER  DISAPPEARS  309 

Now,  if  there  's  one  thing  in  the  whole  wide  world 
calculated  to  give  a  chap  a  fit  of  nervous  prostration  it 
is  to  go  to  bat  in  the  last  half  of  the  ninth  inning  with 
the  knowledge  that  on  his  ability  or  inability  to  hit  safely 
hangs  victory  or  defeat.  Roy  had  that  knowledge,  and 
little  chills  crept  up  and  down  his  spine  when  he  con- 
sidered it.  So  he  tried  not  to.  He  tried  to  forget  every- 
thing save  that  he  was  there  to  hit  the  ball ;  everything 
save  that  and  what  Chub  had  whispered  in  his  ear  at  the 
last. 

"  'When  you  're  up  against  a  bigger  man,  Roy,  grin 
as  hard  as  you  can  grin ! '  Don 't  forget  what  your 
brother  told  you !    That  's  all,  you  dear  old  chump  ! ' ' 

So  Roy  grinned.  Perhaps  he  grinned  so  much  that  he 
quite  disordered  his  features,  for  he  found  Rollins  look- 
ing at  him  curiously  as  though  wondering  as  to  his  sanity. 
But  Roy  still  grinned — and  watched. 

Rollins  wound  himself  up  and  unwound  himself,  and 
the  ball  shot  forward.  Roy  judged  it  quickly  and  let  it 
go  by.     The  umpire  vindicated  his  judgment. 

"Ball!"  he  said. 

Then  came  something  of  a  different  calibre  and  Roy 
stepped  down  and  hit  at  it.    It  went  by  without  a  jar. 

' '  Strike ! ' '  said  the  umpire. 

Again  Roy  tried  his  luck,  spun  half  around  and  re- 
covered himself  to  find  Rollins  doing  the  grinning.  Roy 
grew  angry.  To  have  Rollins  laugh  at  him  was  too  much. 
He  gripped  his  bat  and  took  position  again.  Then  he 
remembered  his  grin.    It  was  hard  to  get  it  back,  but  he 


310  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE 

did  it.  Roy  has  an  idea  that  that  grin  worried  Rollins; 
that  as  may  be,  it  is  a  fact  that  the  next  ball  went  so  wide 
of  the  plate  that  the  catcher  had  to  throw  himself  on  the 
ground  to  stop  it  and  Kirby  was  safe  on  second. 

"Two  and  two!"  cried  the  catcher,  setting  his  mask 
firm  again.    "Right  after  him,  Jim.    He  's  pretty  easy." 

Jim  undoubtedly  meant  Roy  to  strike  at  the  next  one, 
but  Roy  did  n't  because  the  ball  quite  evidently  had  no 
intention  of  coming  over  the  base. 

' '  Three  balls, ' '  remarked  the  umpire  in  a  disinterested 
tone,  just  as  though  hundreds  of  hearts  were  n't  up  in 
hundreds  of  throats. 

For  the  first  time  since  coming  to  bat  Roy  had  a  gleam 
of  hope.  Rollins  had  put  himself  in  a  hole  and  the  next 
ball  would  have  to  be  a  good  one.    And  it  was. 

Roy  swung  sharply  to  meet  it,  dropped  his  bat  like  a 
hot  potato  and  streaked  for  first.  Out  in  left  field  a 
cherry  and  black  stockinged  youth  was  gazing  inquiringly 
toward  the  afternoon  sky.  Home  raced  Kirby,  around 
the  bases  streaked  Roy.  He  had  seen  the  ball  now  and 
hope  was  dying  out  within  him.  Left  fielder  seemed 
directly  under  it.  But  he  would  run  as  hard  as  he 
knew  how,  at  any  rate ;  there  was  no  harm  in  that ;  and 
you  never  could  tell  what  would  happen  in  baseball.  So 
Roy  went  flying  across  second  base  and  headed  for  third 
like  a  small  cyclone  in  a  hurry.  And  as  he  did  so  his 
heart  leaped,  for  left  fielder  had  suddenly  turned  and 
was  running  sideways  and  backward  by  turns  out  into 
the  field. 


THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER  DISAPPEARS  311 

He  had  misjudged  it  badly.  Had  he  not  done  so  I 
should  have  had  a  different  ending  to  narrate.  But  he 
did,  and  when  the  ball  came  to  earth  he  was  not  quite 
under  it  although  he  made  a  frantic  effort  to  get  it.  And 
by  the  time  he  had  picked  it  up  and  relayed  it  to  short- 
stop Roy  was  turning  past  third.  And  by  the  time  short- 
stop had  his  hands  about  it  and  had  turned,  Roy  was 
almost  at  the  plate.  And  by  the  time — But  what  's  the 
use  in  drawing  a  story  out  in  this  way?  Roy  beat  that 
ball  to  the  plate  by  at  least  two  seconds.  And  in  one 
more  second  he  was  being  literally  carried  to  the  bench 
in  the  midst  of  a  howling,  shrieking,  dancing  mob  of 
Ferry  Hillites. 

Perhaps  Ferry  Hill  would  have  continued  the 
game  until  her  third  man  had  been  put  out  had 
she  had  a  chance.  But  when  the  spectators  take  it  into 
their  heads  to  have  a  war-dance  in  the  middle  of  the 
diamond,  ball  playing  is  extremely  difficult.  So  Chub 
shouted  something  to  the  umpire,  the  scorer  slammed  his 
book  shut  on  a  score  of  8 — 7  and  pandemonium  had 
everything  its  own  way. 

Here  and  there  a  Ferry  Hill  player  tried  to  sneak  back 
to  the  gymnasium  undetected,  but  in  every  case  he  was 
captured  and  placed  high  up  on  the  shoulders  of  frantic, 
joy-crazed  friends.  There  was  no  band  there  to  lead  that 
triumphant  procession  around  and  around  the  diamond, 
but  no  one  felt  the  necessity  for  one.  There  was  noise 
enough  without  it. 


812  THE  CRIMSON  SWEATER 

Roy,  swaying  unsteadily  on  the  shoulders  of  a  little 
group  of  hatless,  red-faced  youths,  looked  down  on  the 
sea  of  pushing,  panting  figures  and  grinned  happily. 
Chub,  clinging  desperately  to  the  heads  of  two  of  his 
bearers,  charged  through  the  throng  in  Roy's  direction. 

" Hello,  there!"  he  bawled.  "Use  your  spurs  and 
come  on!" 

But  Roy's  bearers  needed  no  spurs.  They  charged  the 
crowd  and  Roy  went  bobbing  through  a  little  forest  of 
upraised  eager  hands.  Then  the  procession  took  some 
semblance  of  form  and  began  its  march  around  the  bases 
according  to  time-honored  custom.  As  Roy,  following 
closely  behind  Chub,  passed  third,  he  found  Doctor 
Emery  and  his  family  beside  him.  The  Doctor  was  smil- 
ing broadly,  Mrs.  Emery  was  waving  a  diminutive  ban- 
ner and  Harry  was  dancing  and  shrieking,  her  red  hair 
floating  in  disordered  wisps  about  her  face.  She  caught 
sight  of  Roy  on  the  instant  and  darted  toward  him. 

"Wait!     Wait!"  she  commanded  shrilly. 

Roy's  bearers  waited,  laughing  and  panting  protest- 
ingly. 

Harry  reached  up  and  tossed  a  crimson  sweater  about 
Roy's  shoulders. 

"I  'm  so  glad,  Roy,"  she  cried  breathlessly.  "And 
it  's  all  mended ;  I  did  it  myself ! ' ' 

Roy  nodded,  drew  the  arms  of  his  precious  sweater 
across  his  chest  and  called  his  thanks.  Then,  impatient 
of  the  delay,  his  bearers  charged  forward  again  and  Roy 


THE  CRIMSON  SWEATEE  DISAPPEARS  313 

clutched  wildly  to  keep  his  seat.  Thrice  around  the  dia- 
mond the  procession  went,  cheering  and  singing,  and  then 
it  turned  across  the  track  and  filed  through  the  gate  in 
the  hedge  and  so  through  the  June  twilight  and  under 
the  great  elms  to  the  gymnasium. 

And  in  the  van  of  the  line,  like  a  vivid  standard  of 
victory,  swayed  The  Crimson  Sweater. 


-  :b 


